


The Long Game

by Jay Auris (nighthawkms)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternative Lifestyles, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Canon Disabled Character, Collars, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Consensual Non-Consent, Dirty Talk, Dom!Newt, Dom/Sub Lifestyle Negotiations, Dom/sub, Finger Sucking, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Humiliation, I probably missed a few tags because there is SO MUCH FILTH, Kink Negotiation, Lace Panties, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Hand Jobs, Roleplay, Semi-Public Sex, Submission, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, sub!Hermann, ya'll this fic is so dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15734547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighthawkms/pseuds/Jay%20Auris
Summary: Hermann has always had trouble satisfying his desires, until Newt comes up with a scenario that leaves them both wanting more.





	1. Chapter 1

"Red light. Hermann, tell me right now, is your hip hurting?"

"It... it's fine. I can handle it... Keep, _ahh_ , keep-"

"Bullshit." Newt sighs and immediately leans forward, grabbing the emergency scissors off the dresser. Hermann’s legs are spread wide, ankles bound with short-slack ropes to the headboard his wrists are also tied to. Newt quickly cuts the rope attached to his bad leg, and the relieved moan Hermann makes when the limb is freed and can fall gracelessly to the mattress lets Newt know that he's correct in his assessment that Hermann is in pain.

"Please don't stop-" Hermann tries, but Newt has already cut through the other ankle rope, and the ropes binding Hermann's wrists soon follow suit. Hermann's shoulders ache from being held in place, and he's too slow to grab Newt's arm as Newt rises from the bed and moves away from it.

"Give me a second," Newt says, leaving the room.

Hermann sighs dishearteningly and rolls over, rubbing his thigh where the pain shoots through the muscle. It had started out as a little twinge, something Hermann thought he could handle, and he'd truly tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the lovely sensation of Newt's fingers buried inside him, Newt's mouth whispering filthy things in his ear. But the pain grew and swelled, and soon Hermann was gritting his teeth, no more breathy moans torn from his throat as Newt took him apart with digits and words alone. Just a frustrating pain that ruins every attempt at an encounter like this, has always made it so difficult to fulfill his wants and desires with partners. And now the scene they were working through, the intensity they've been building up has all gone to hell.

"Newton?" Hermann calls out into the silent air, a knot of nerves coiling in his stomach. He hears nothing, and fears that Newt is preparing a speech, just the latest failure in his line of lovers who enjoy being dominant but can't handle a submissive with physical limitations. But Newt wouldn't do that to him. Newt cares about him for more than his ability to play the part of the perfect sub. Doesn't he? He must. Yet the knot of nerves coils tighter in Hermann's chest the longer Newt is silent. "Newton, what are you doing?"

"I'm coming," Newt replies, stepping back out of the bathroom. A glass of water is gripped in one hand, and Newt’s other fist produces extra-strength paracetamol when held out towards Hermann. "Take them."

Hermann nods and grasps the water, plucking the pills from Newt's palm and throwing them back. He sips the water; he could really do this without the extra help, but most people get nervous about a man who has experience dry-swallowing fistfuls of medication. An addict or an invalid, those are usually the assumptions. Hermann doesn’t need to give Newt another reason to worry.

"Thank you," Hermann mumbles miserably, putting the water on the nightstand. "If you'd like, I can return to my quarters-"

"No," Newt says, kneeling on the bed. He nudges Hermann back down and pulls him tight to Newt's chest, pecking him on the forehead. "I want you to stay. You're not allowed to leave."

A flicker of something warm tickles inside Hermann's chest. "Alright," he says, closing his eyes. "As you wish."

"You need to tell me when it's too much, Herms," Newt chides him. "The whole point of doing all this kinky shit is to enjoy ourselves. You already told me you don't like pain, and I don't like causing it. If I tell you to use your yellow light when you need a break or adjustment, then you'd better fucking do it."

"I'm sorry," Hermann says, surprised at the level of shame he feels. "I suppose I just wish to please you, Newton."

"You're not gonna do that by gritting your teeth and pretending the pain away, my dude."

"But- but if..." Hermann feels himself growing hot, embarrassed, and attempts to duck his head, which is impossible when Newt clasps his chin and gently nudges him to look up.

"What do you think I'm gonna do?" Newt asks. "Just abandon you 'cause your tolerance for the more intense shit is low?"

Hermann doesn't verbalize it, but he does look away, and that says it all.

"Oh, babe..." Newt leans in, kissing him softly. Gentle, always so gentle, even when he's being demanding and dominating, as if the exaggerated roughness excites him far less than the fact of Hermann's willing obedience. "I feel like you've had some assholes in your past, and if I ever meet one of them, I'm shoving my steel-toed boot so far up their ass that they'll need papers to go through metal detectors for the rest of their lives."

Hermann snickers against Newt's mouth, pulling back. "I'd rather you didn't expend your energy on worthless individuals, darling. I suppose I'm just disappointed. I feel as though my limits inhibiting us from achieving our potential."

"So, how can we fix it? Come on, we’re stupid brilliant people, and this isn’t quantum entanglement physics. Doing all this BDSM shit is just a means to fulfill a deeper want, so what are you trying to get out of this, Herms?" Newt cups a hand against Hermann's cheek, and Hermann sighs, leaning into the caress.

"I don’t know, Newton. I’ve always enjoyed this sort of thing, and I suppose I haven’t examined the deeper motivations in any real capacity… well, to start with, I so rarely feel like I can be uninhibited or out of control. Activities like this allow me that occasional freedom."

"Hmmm. So basically, you want to be pulled out of your comfort zone." Newt looks thoughtful. It's the same expression he wears when he's formulating a new theory about Kaiju anatomy, the whip-sharp intellect that comes up with wild notions, some of which are ludicrous, but an occasional few which bear fruit. "You want somebody to bring out all that dark shit you usually repress. Force you to feel all those nasty little urges. Something like that?"

" _Yes_ ," Hermann says, a little too forcefully, giving himself away entirely.

Newt flashes him a wicked grin and rolls over to straddle Hermann's waist. "Okay. Give me a few days. I've got some ideas."

"Ideas? What sort?"

"Oh, you don't get to know until I'm done finalizing them. How's that for being out of your comfort zone, Mister _Has-to-Know-Everything-All-The-Time-Because-I'm-A-Control-Freak_?"

Hermann's scowl is transparent in its falseness. "I need to be kept informed about anything we do together, Newton."

"Relax, dude," Newt says, nipping a path down Hermann's collarbone. "I know the whole drill: safe, sane, consensual, all that good stuff. I'll give you the gist when I've got it all figured out. Nothing you don't agree to, of course. Now shut up and enjoy this amazing blowjob I'm about to give you."

Hermann's reply is cut off by an eager moan, because Newt keeps his word, just as he always does when it comes to their bedroom escapades.

~

Newt gives Hermann a general gist of his plan, but only enough so that Hermann can do what he needs to set things in motion. The first action comes a few days later, late in the evening, when Hermann finds himself alone in the lab. Newt left an hour ago, and in keeping with their agreed upon roles for this scenario, the cold and haughty Dr. Gottlieb - as he will be thinking of himself in this role-play - is quite happy to be rid of the obnoxious, attention-seeking Dr. Geiszler. Any contact Dr. Gottlieb has with the man is excruciating and horrid, and any chance for a respite is welcomed.

Hermann logs out of his computer for the evening and glances around, considers the stillness and quiet. He’s feeling quite at peace until he spies a specimen cart half-way across the clear dividing line of their lab. Sneering, Hermann gets up and stalks over, glaring down at the bits of dissected Kaiju liver that should have been bagged and stored hours ago, but remain a disgusting encroachment into his space.

"What a loathesome, rude man," Hermann mutters. "As if my work is not as important as his precious samples."

Then he smiles, because he's just had an idea, or at least, this self-impressed version of himself has. Glancing around again, no sign of anyone nearby, he leans into his good leg and reaches down, unzipping his slacks and carefully freeing himself from the confines of his boxers. A few good strokes brings him quickly to hardness, and he thrusts into his fist, groaning quietly and closing his eyes. Newt is behind his eyelids, a vision whose ghostly hands are the ones bringing him off. His real self would love this, but his fictional self is in denial, believing it impossible that he's attracted to such an imbecile, a chaotic, juvenile individual. So, as his fictional self swears up and down that he isn't imagining that Dr. Geiszler is the one with a fist around his cock, his real self feels the thrill of wanting what he shouldn't, of not being able to push the thought of Dr. Geiszler out of his head. How dare he shove himself into the fantasies of Dr. Gottlieb? How dare he ruin what's a perfectly good revenge wank with the image of his jutting, wide mouth and his crystalline pupils that always sparkle with humor whenever they bicker, his tongue lapping out low across one lip, calling Dr. Gottlieb all sorts of wicked names and mocking him, belittling him, how dare he...

Hermann gasps and comes with a hard shudder. When he opens his eyes, he's pleased to see that his release has splattered all over the samples. They're completely contaminated and ruined for work. When Dr. Geiszler attempts to test them later, the odd foreign substance and reduced PH levels will clue him in that something's gone wrong. But of course, Dr. Gottlieb couldn't have been the one to destroy them, Dr. Gottlieb wouldn’t be caught dead in a position of impropriety. Far too buttoned up and straight laced, Dr. Geiszler’s lab partner.

He hopes that this is enough to satisfy his part of the plan. Newt told him to engage in something highly inappropriate and sexually motivated in the lab but wouldn't say much more than that. He promised Hermann that once that part of the plan had been set into motion, he would clearly outline the rest, and apparently, he'd do it in a way that will have Hermann practically begging to say yes. It's a curious enough offer that Hermann agreed to go ahead and follow Newt's directions.

In the morning, it looks to have paid off, as Newt- no, as _Dr. Geiszler_ is sitting in _Dr. Gottlieb's_ desk chair, one leg thrown over the other, hands folded in his lap and a wide smirk painted across his lips.

"What do you have to be so happy about? Get out of my seat," Hermann snaps, coming to stand in front of him, glaring. "Your penchant for ignoring the clear regulations of this laboratory is sickening."

Newt snorts. "Pot, kettle, Dr. Gottlieb," he says. "Coming from you, that's hilarious."

"I've no idea what you mean," Hermann retorts. "Now get out of my chair!"

"No," Newt says, folding his arms and smiling pleasantly. "In fact, I don't think I'll be doing anything you tell me to for quite a while. See, you fucked up, and I've got proof."

"What are you on about?" Hermann grouses. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Not according to this," Newt replies, and he pulls out his phone. "See, I was taking video notes last night, and I forgot to turn this off," -alright that’s a bit hackneyed of an excuse, but Hermann can run with it- "and I just so happened to catch a little late-night show."

Newt taps his phone a few times and then holds it out so that Hermann can clearly see the video playing. It's a very graphic, very detailed recording of Hermann's self-flagellation from the previous evening. Hermann swallows, eyes going wide as he watches himself working his cock with one fist, head tipped back, lips parted and tongue darting out like it's searching for something to taste. He can feel his face heating up, and it's a good thing that he is the one that programmed the anti-hacking and anti-virus protections that are currently keeping Newt's phone secure, or he'd be livid instead of embarrassed and a little aroused.

"Give me that!" Hermann yelps, reaching out, but Newt yanks his hand back, grinning.

"Even if I did, you think I didn't make a copy already, dude?" Newt sneers. "Face it. I've got some real shit I can hold over your self-important, narcissistic ass." He chuckles, tucking the phone back into his pocket. "Now, I could show this to the Marshall, and you'd be out on your ass so fast, your stupid equations would go spinning around your head like a Looney Tunes cartoon. Or maybe I should just upload this to Pornhub as an example of when good scientists go dirty."

Hermann glares fiercely, his teeth squeaking together in an imagined fury, but Newt just smiles, because Dr. Geiszler knows he has the upper hand, and all of Hermann's attempts at intimidation won't change the fact that he's screwed.

"What do you _want_ , Dr. Geiszler," Hermann spits out, clenching his fists. "If you were planning on trying to get money out of me, you'll be sad to know that the savings of a military scientist are rather paltry."

Newt snorts. "No fucking duh, dipshit. I get the same salary you do. No, I've got another idea. You think you're better than me, don't you?"

"Clearly, I am, as I'm not the one resorting to the blackmail of a coworker!"

"And yet you're the one who jizzed all over my delicate, rare Kaiju samples. You try and act all high and mighty and superior and above it all, but deep down, you're just as dirty and filthy and perverted as the rest of us, aren't you?"

Hermann says nothing, biting his lip and glancing away.

"I thought so," Newt says, standing up. "So, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to do an experiment. I'm going to see just how much of a pervert you actually are, _Herr Doktor_."

"And how exactly do you plan on going about that?" Hermann mutters, folding his arms. "Planning on setting up more recording devices in my quarters?"

Newt snorts, and Hermann lets out a genuine gasp as Newt grips him by the collar and yanks him down 'till they're eye level.

"No, asshole," Newt growls. "I'm giving you a choice. I'll destroy this video and all copies of it at the end of the week. But until then, you're gonna be my personal. fucking. _slut_."

"Wh-what?" Hermann bites his tongue to keep from losing his composure, wanting to laugh at Newt’s blunt usage of such filthy language. Newt seems to sense it, because he gives Hermann a little wink, and Hermann smiles before resuming his former expression of outrage, jerking backwards. Newt doesn't let go of his shirt, so he can't go far. "What the bloody hell are you on about?"

"I'm talking about you, Hermann Gottlieb, being brought down to the level of the rest of us little people," Newt replies. "For one week, you're going to do everything I tell you, whenever I tell you, without question. If that means getting on your back on the couch and letting me fuck your mouth, you'll do it. If I tell you to strip and ride my cock, you won't argue. If I tell you to clean up my side of the lab, or do my paperwork, or touch yourself, or walk a certain way - basically, anything I tell you, you'll do. And if you can be a good little slut for one week, then the tape is all yours."

"This- this is outrageous!" Hermann yelps, red-faced, even while he can feel his cock hardening beneath his trousers. As if on cue, Newt reaches down and cups him, squeezing, and Hermann buckles forward a bit, gripping Newt's shoulders for balance. "Bloody hell, this isn't right!"

"Neither is what you did," Newt replies. "And as far as I can tell by this growing bulge, you're more into this than you're willing to admit." His face lights up with a smile. "Oh, oh that's gonna be part of the experiment! I'm gonna get you to admit you like being degraded. That'll be fun."

"You are a disgusting, cretinous-"

Newt isn't having his insults, apparently, because he grabs Hermann by the roots of his hair and yanks his head back, not enough to cause a lot of pain, more for the pressure and the shock of being manhandled this way. It serves to pull Hermann out of the line of curses he was preparing to throw at the other man.

"You can either agree or the video will be all over the net ten minutes from now."

Hermann pretends as if he's trying to decide between public humiliation and one week of private torture. In fact, he's quite shocked and pleased at Newt's audacity, and while he's never thought to take his submissive leanings outside of the bedroom, this could prove exciting and a unique experience for them both.

"Fine," Hermann grunts. "One week. Starting this very moment."

Newt grins, leaning in. "Yellow light," he says, kissing Hermann softly on the mouth. "Mmmm, is this okay, babe? You can always red-light if something is too much."

"It's perfectly, _liebling_ ," Hermann replies. "You've got the most delightful ideas. I'm not sure I can stay furious with you for an entire week though."

"You could always manage that before we started fucking," Newt reminds him, winking. "And the whole point is that I'm going to get you to stop being mad and start being a wanton little slut who craves my cock, remember? "

"Well, luck to you," Hermann responds, grinning back, knowing that Newt will probably win the war, but he'll certainly enjoy putting up a fight.

"Ready?"

"Quite ready. Green light ahead."

Newt winks, and then knits his brow, looking like he's trying to get back into character. "Okay, Gottlieb," he says, turning and dragging Hermann by the shirt collar towards his side of the lab. "First thing is first. I don't need people asking questions, so if I order you to do something that's got a public aspect, it's gonna be subtle. But in private, you're going to address me as 'sir' and only that. You're gonna be reminded of who's in charge here. Got it?"

"Yes," Hermann snaps, gasping when Newt twists the fabric of his collar, tightening it around his throat. Newt turns back to look at him.

"Yes, _what_ , Hermann?"

"Yes- yes, _sir_ ," Hermann says, glaring down at the floor. He hears Newt snicker.

"Jesus, you're so fucking pathetic, you know that? All that bloviating and acting like you're hot shit because you're good with numbers. Let's see how witty you seem with a cock in your mouth."

Newt leads him over to the couch that sits on the divided line of the lab. It's amusing to Hermann now, how insistent he was on an equitable, clear indication of what side belonged to who, as if a yellow strip of tape could keep Newt far enough apart that Hermann wouldn't have to develop a relationship, and later, would be able to discard the latent, growing feelings he had for the other man. The line is mostly forgotten, more a courtesy for Newt to show that he respects Hermann's need for personal space. In this roleplay, the boundary is summarily broken as Newt shoves Hermann down onto his back and straddles his upper chest.

Hermann finds his arms pinned under Newt's thighs, weighted down and trapped by the slightly heavier man. Newt smirks at him from above, and Hermann's cock, still hard, twitches against his stomach.

As if to draw out the humiliation, Newt takes his time flicking the button of his jeans open, and slowly inching the zipper down, tooth by tooth. When he draws his length out, Hermann imagines that it is his first time seeing it, how shocking it would be to see Newt, this man he claims to despise, in an erotic pose above him, gripping the long, curved shaft of his cock and stroking it right above Hermann's pointed nose.

"I should just jerk off on your face," Newt says, groaning as he works himself. "Dump my jizz in that stupid hair of yours and make you stay like that all day."

"People would notice, you imbe-" He stops when Newt shoots him a look, not quite ready to see what will happen if he slips up and insults the other man. "I mean... if we had visitors, they would certainly see it, sir."

Newt nods, and smiles, like he's getting some perverse joy out of the thought. "They would," he says, pumping his hand, tipping his head back and moaning softly. "They'd see my jizz dried in your hair and they'd know you'd let somebody have their way with you. Fuck." He stops stroking, panting. "Maybe another time. I did say I wanted to test your oral abilities, since you're so confident in those."

Hermann opens his mouth to retort with something witty, but Newt takes the opportunity to grip him by the hair and push the head of his prick past Hermann's lips. Newt holds his head in place, and Hermann loves that he can't move it, pretends to protest with an indignant sound, even though Newt's cock sliding wetly down his throat is a joy he'll never take for granted. Newt is thick and a decent length, decent enough to silence any noises Hermann might make. The tip of it tickles uncomfortably close to his uvula, enough to trigger a burst of nervous adrenaline, and Hermann twists under Newt's pinning thighs. His own cock aches to be touched, but Dr. Gottlieb would refuse to give in so easily. That's an interesting side effect: Hermann’s adherence to this character's denial is a kind of mental bondage, keeping him from any sort of relief or release. Dr. Gottlieb might be secretly enjoying how Dr. Geiszler is using his mouth, abusing his lips with a steady, forceful series of thrusts, but by god, he won't dare admit it!

"How's it feel, Dr. Gottlieb?" Newt sneers, snapping his hips. "This is just the beginning. Shit... gonna make you my own little sex toy. When I say blow me, you ask how deep. When I put you on your stomach, you spread your slutty little legs and let me use your hole however I want."

Hermann can't help but let out a whine, feel a little shiver, and he closes his eyes, because it's too much, watching Newt above him, feeling Newt's heated, thick length prod the back of his throat, drool escaping from the corners of Hermann's mouth. How utterly debauched and used he must look, his fists gripping into his pants' legs to keep from touching himself, toes curling inside his shoes, body tight with tension. The video Newt has of him is bad enough, but if he were forced to watch himself be violated like this, his body belonging to the man above him for the next week to do with as he pleases... _Oh, bloody Christ_ , Hermann thinks. _I'd want to watch it, wouldn't I? If he buggered me and filmed it and made me watch it after, I would, and I'd despise myself for enjoying it._

"You're doing pretty good, Doc," Newt grunts. "I'm kind of surprised, but I guess I shouldn't be, since I already know you're a little fucking whore. I bet you've had plenty of cocks shoved down this throat before."

Hermann whimpers in protest, choking slightly when Newt yanks his head forward, farther down onto his cock.

"Don't deny it," Newt continues. "Fuck... bet that's why you're so good at sucking cock... plenty of practice. Shit, get ready... fuck, swallow my cum you little slut. If you take it all, you'll get a reward..."

That's the only warning Hermann gets, because then Newt drags him down as far as Hermann can take, and Newt is right, because Hermann has had practice with this, enough that when Newt cries out and shoots down his throat, Hermann swallows in quick, successive gulps, taking it all down and barely tasting a bitter drop of it.

Newt pulls out, leaving Hermann panting hard beneath him, lips a deep, abused shade of red, cheeks flush with arousal. Dr. Gottlieb would be embarrassed, but Hermann finds that all his usual worries and concerns have vanished, leaving him with a sense of exhausted satisfaction, too worn by the workout Newt just gave him to think about anything but the warm, heavy body against his chest.

Newt smiles a genuine smile, stroking a hand through Hermann's hair. "I knew you'd be a good slut, Dr. Gottlieb," he says. "Man, I can always call 'em. Well, I did say you'd get a reward."

Hermann is so over-sensitized by this point that when Newt shuffles down and slides a hand under the band of Hermann's slacks, gripping him tightly, Hermann has to bite back a shriek, turning his face into the cushion of the couch to muffle his moans.

" _No_ ," Newt growls, grabbing Hermann's hair and yanking his head to face front again. "I get to hear you, Gottlieb. I'm the one making you feel this way. Those noises belong to me. Got it?"

"Please," Hermann gasps, rolling his hips up into Newt's hand, groaning loudly. "I- I can't... someone will hear, Dr. Geiszler..."

"That's 'sir' to you, remember? Besides, it's early," Newt replies, continuing to stroke but leaning down to suck gently on the pulse point of Hermann's outstretched neck. "No one is around. You need to fucking chill out- eh, I guess you can't though, not with how I'm working your dick, huh? Feels good, doesn't it? Tell me how it feels, Gottlieb. No lying, or there will be consequences."

Hermann squirms and the Gottliebian part of himself, the tight-knit man who can't admit to how he's feeling urges him to stay quiet. Roleplaying or not, he can't possibly just admit aloud how this makes him feel... can he?

"C'mon Hermann," Newt mutters in his ear. "I know you like this. I'm ordering you to tell me that."

"Y-yes," Hermann groans, red-faced for real, because this has always been a thing for him, when someone forces him to be honest, to truly feel everything he's experiencing, without pretense or hiding behind excuses. "Newt, everything feels so lovely... _ah!_ Oh bloody- oh... yes, just like that, _please_ , sir!"

Newt flicks his wrist up the exact same way, and Hermann keens and arches upwards. The man knows him too well, this is all unfair, how he can so easily figure out what makes Hermann tick.

"Look at you, Herms," Newt says, licking a stripe down his jaw. "Gorgeous, you're gonna be so pretty when you're riding my cock, babe. Yeah, there we go, come for me, right into my fist, just like that..."

Hermann moans wretchedly and pumps his hips, his release leaking through Newt's fingers as the shock of a hard orgasm rushes up his spine. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, Newt's slick-covered hand is hovering in front of his lips.

"Lick it all up," Newt commands. "I don't have time to deal with your messes, dude. Any time that you come this week, you're cleaning it with your tongue, so remember that before asking to get off."

A muted twinge of arousal sparks in Hermann, despite the post-release period, and he shivers as he darts out his tongue, lapping his own bitter seed off Newt's fingers. When Newt seems satisfied with the job he's done, he pulls his hand back, smiling.

"Yellow light," he says. "You still okay?"

"Marvelous," Hermann responds, smiling up at him. "That was bloody brilliant, Newt."

Newt beams at Hermann like he's just been told he's won another award. "See? Told you I had a fucking awesome plan. So, for the next week, I'm gonna leave you be while we work so we can pretend that we still, yanno, hate each other, but sometimes I'm gonna ask you 'green light' and if you say yes, then Dr. Geiszler, blackmail dom extraordinaire is gonna come out and take you for another ride. Sound good?"

Hermann nods rapidly. "Any time, then? Will you surprise me?"

"Of course, babe, if that's what you want," Newt replies, pecking Hermann on the forehead. "I won't tell you when or where. Plenty of surprises that way. And it doesn't always have to be sex, or at least, us having sex. I've got some other ideas, too."

"Your ideas are going to get us into trouble someday," Hermann says, grinning. "But I'm excited to see what you have in store."


	2. Chapter 2

True to his word, Newt leaves Hermann be during the work day. It's quite nice; for all that he loves Newt, they still tend to drive one another batty in the workplace if left unchecked. Though it would be a little out of character for _Dr. Geiszler_ to show _Dr. Gottlieb_ any sort of courtesy, especially now that he's gotten blackmail, perhaps he is allowing Dr. Gottlieb some space to stew and really consider what a week of being someone’s personal sex toy really means.

Hermann finds his work done by five, and when he hears Newt calling out "green light?" from across the room, he nods and grunts affirmatively.

"Gonna need a clear and eager yes, Herms."

Hermann rolls his eyes, but smiles. Newt being a stickler for safety and consent when engaging in BDSM is rather endearing.

"You have the green light, Newton," he says, not removing his eyes from the screen of his computer. “You may go forth with your plans for the evening.”

There isn't a reply, until he feels a hand grip his shoulder.

"You're done for the day, Gottlieb," Newt says. "Close down and come with me."

"I still have a number of reports-"

"That wasn't a question," Newt says, picking up Hermann's cane and pressing it into his hand. "Let's go."

Hermann follows him quietly out of the lab, striding side by side. In their real lives, everyone is aware of their relationship and their fondness for one another, so this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Still, it would be an adjustment for Dr. Gottlieb, who is still furious and embarrassed at the predicament he's finding himself in but has no idea how to escape it. If he could just find all copies of that video... but there's no guarantee Dr. Geiszler hasn't made dozens at this point, storing them away on separate drives to ensure his blackmail isn't destroyed. If even one copy escapes destruction and Dr. Gottlieb attempts to retaliate, he knows that Dr. Geiszler will take his vengeance, swiftly and without remorse. The man is nothing, if not defensive and spiteful.

Newt leads Hermann towards his own bunk, and when the door shuts behind them, Newt sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning back and resting his hands on the mattress.

"Strip," Newt commands. "Everything off. I want to see what exactly I've earned this week."

Hermann gives him the best scowl he can manage but reaches up and tugs his sweater up over his head. He goes to drape it over the back of Newt's desk chair, but Newt holds up a hand.

"No," he says. "You take it off and drop it on the floor. Normal people don't worry about folding their clothes during sex, Gottlieb. Keep going."

The part of Hermann that demands order and cleanliness screams in frustration, but he lets the sweater drop from his hand to the ground. The button-down goes next, and then his slacks, pooling around his ankles. The problem now becomes how he is to remove his shoes and socks while standing, which he isn't used to or good at. Thankfully, Newt motions him over and assists him, holding him by the waist momentarily as Hermann removes the necessary garments. After that's done, Newt lets go but grips the waistband of Hermann’s boxers, tugging them down Hermann's hips, and he steps out of them, blushing as Newt looks him up and down, taking the part of a new lover seeing him for the first time.

"Oh, Doc, look what you were hiding under there!" Newt says, grinning. "Fuck, I won the lottery. Okay, give me a little twirl, that's it... Hmmm. Something's missing."

"Like what? Erm, sir," Hermann finishes, raising an eyebrow as Newt slides off the bed, moving over to the closet. He opens the door and bends over, giving Hermann a lovely view of Newt's backside as he rummages around. Newt makes an excited noise when he finds whatever he's looking for and steps back out.

"We just need to complete the look," Newt says, grinning as he lifts a thin black collar, studded with metal. Hermann swallows, staring at the strip of leather. It looks new, never used, like it was purchased just for him... how in blazes did Newt buy that so fast?

"I'm not a dog, sir," Hermann says, licking his lips as Newt wraps the collar around his neck, buckling it securely in the back. There's a metal ring at the front, perfect to attach something to it... or to attach Hermann to something.

"Of course, you aren't, Gottlieb. But I do own your ass for the next week, so you need a reminder. That's thin and low enough on your neck that your collared shirts will hide it."

Hermann raises both eyebrows, mouth popping open. "You expect me to wear this continuously? Sir, I would posit that this is not the best idea you've ever-"

"I don't care," Newt drawls, shrugging and looping one finger into the ring, tugging Hermann down, leaning in close. "You don't take this off unless I tell you to. Every moment of the day you're going to be reminded that you belong to me: when you wake up, when you eat meals, when you dress yourself, when you're bent over your stupid fucking desk, typing away at your keyboard. Even when I’m not fucking you, I can goddamn guarantee that you're gonna feel this every time you swallow or shift your neck, and you'll be reminded of exactly who put it on you, and why."

Hermann shudders, thinking about how true it will be, if not because of the leather scratching his skin, but because he's going to remember Newt saying this to him.

Newt drags him into a biting kiss, his other hand pressing into the small of Hermann's back and bringing them flush together.  Newt is still fully clothed, his cotton slacks swishing against Hermann's growing, naked hardness, drawing a tight whine out of his throat. The contrast is electrifying, Hermann exposed and vulnerable, Newt buttoned up and far too calm and confident for what he's going to do to Hermann.

It only lasts a quick moment before Newt is shoving him towards the bed, growling at him to get onto his stomach and lie flat, and not to move. Hermann breathes into the duvet, staring at his right fist gripped into the comforter, listening to the sound of Newt puttering around behind him. The sounds move closer, and a hand shoots out in front of Hermann's line of vision, gripping his wrist and yanking it behind his back, Hermann's other wrist joining it.

"What are you doing?" Hermann asks, squirming as Newt pulls Hermann's arms next to one another, touching parallel, fingers to the inner corners of the opposite elbows. He feels a soft, thick fabric, and realizes it's some of the hemp rope Newt keeps stashed away. He lies still as Newt binds his arms together, wrapping the rope tightly, but not too tightly, around the whole length of his arms and wrists, tying it off at the end. It's done well; Newt has practice with binding this way, and Hermann has experience being bound, enough so that his arms won't be tiring for a while.

"I don't need you getting handsy right now," Newt says, suddenly right up against Hermann's ear, so that he gasps a little and jerks away as Newt sits up. "I intend to study this new specimen I've got my hands on and do a little research to see how it responds."

"You could just bloody _ask_ ," Hermann mutters, yelping when Newt slaps him hard across the side of his backside, right cheek.

"No sass." Hermann waits for another hit, but it doesn't come. "Yellow light.  You still okay?"

"Right as rain," Hermann says. "The collar was an inspired touch. Do go on, sir."

Newt chuckles, mussing Hermann's hair a little before resuming his role. "I'm assuming you've been fucked before, Gottlieb. Unless this is your first rodeo? Not gonna lie, the idea of being your first is fucking hot." Hermann moans loudly when Newt squeezes and massages his backside with two firm, unyielding hands. "Pushing into that tight little hole of yours, getting it nice and stretched. By the time I'm done with you, dude, you're going to be aching for a cock any time one isn't inside of you."

"Prove it," Hermann growls. "If you're so sure of yourself."

Newt laughs and pats his arse. "Damn sure am. Keep being mouthy, I bet you'd look nice with a ring gag in your mouth. It would shut you up and make it even easier to fuck that slutty throat of yours."

Hermann says nothing, because his character doesn't want to be gagged, even though his real self is quite alright with a good gagging every so often. Newt seems to wait until he's sure Hermann won't be saying something smart back, and then he leans bodily over Hermann, stretching out. Hermann watches him open the nightstand drawer and draw out the familiar bottle of lube with the purple cap. The sound of the cap popping is enough to get Hermann's heart rate going, and he groans when one of Newt's thick, insistent fingers pushes into him with little fanfare.

"So tight," Newt notes. "Dude, I know this is all about what I want and you being my little bitch, but I really think you're gonna enjoy yourself. Getting fucked feels so good, especially when someone preps you right and you're tight enough to feel it."

"And, and are you going t-to prepare me correctly, then?" Hermann grits out, squeezing around Newt's searching finger. The blasted thing is twisting and hitting all sorts of wonderful spots, testing, seeing what makes Hermann twitch and moan, like Newt really is new to his body. It's a bit erotic, thinking that Newt is fascinated enough by Hermann's little quirks to take his time, explore and study him. Like he's important enough to be preened over and handled carefully.

"If you're a good boy," Newt chides. Hermann tries to stifle the little whine that crawls out of his throat, but it's too late. Newt hears it, and Hermann hears him snicker. "You like that, Gottlieb? You like being called a good boy, huh? Getting all crabby because you didn't want to be called a dog and yet you respond just like one."

"Oh, piss off," Hermann snaps, taking a perverse pleasure in goading Newt, yelping and digging his toes into the mattress when Newt ungracefully shoves another finger into him.

"You're only mad 'cause I'm right, dude." Hermann flinches when he feels a hand come to his face, but Newt is gentle, carding his finger through Hermann's hair, stroking his thumb up Hermann's jaw, petting him. "You're such a kiss ass, it makes sense. Following around all the administrators and kowtowing to their demands. You love being praised for your hard work. I mean, who doesn't yanno? But I'm a smartass and a rule breaker, and so I'll never be the golden child. But you, Hermann? You're the _good boy_."

"S-shut up," Hermann moans as Newt drives his fingers deeper, his other hand scratching down Hermann's neck, kneading circles into the top of his spine. "You always make fun of me, why do you always make fun of me?"

"Because it's so easy!" Newt giggles, skirting his hand back across Hermann's jaw. "And you get so angry and you puff up like a yappy little puppy. It's kinda cute, you know?"

Before Hermann can respond, Newt has pressed two fingers between his lips, thrusting them in and out of Hermann's mouth at the same tempo his other fingers are using to stretch Hermann's entrance. Hermann moans and closes his eyes, sinks into the dueling sensations. Mouth full, and arse on its way towards fullness, he can't concentrate, can't do much more than shiver and let himself be used. He tenses and then relaxes his spine, over and over, tensing at the thrusts, relaxing at the removals. Moans crawl unbidden up his throat, slipping past Newt's prying digits, and soon enough he's shoving back against Newt's fingers as they stretch his hole.

"See?" Newt mutters, nuzzling against the back of Hermann's scalp. "Look at you, coming apart so easy. Knew you had it in you, Gottlieb. Too bad it took you fucking up to make it happen."

Newt's fingers slip out of Hermann's mouth, and he gasps and rests his cheek against the bedspread. Somewhere along the line, Newt snuck a third finger into him. It's dragging slowly back and forth, sinking deep to brush the very edge of Hermann's prostate, and when it does, Hermann lets out a needy whine, bucking his hips into the bed.

"Can't resist it, can you? All that sass and obstinance and all it takes is a few fingers in your ass to get you to be cordial. Nice to know you're human like the rest of us, Gottlieb."

" _Please..._ " Hermann begs. "Haven't you humiliated me enough?" Dr. Gottlieb is ashamed at how badly he wants this, and Hermann sinks into that delicious melding of arousal and embarrassment. _To be overwhelmed by such perverted ways, surely, I'm some kind of freak_. Yeah, that's what Dr. Gottlieb would think. Hermann knows that shame, took years to grow out of it, to become comfortable in acknowledging that his fantasies and desires weren't wrong. He's worked through all those issues, and so this pretend shame is exciting, something he's allowing himself to feel to enhance the experience.

Newt pets Hermann's hair, chuckling low behind his ear. "Hush. You're being such a _good boy_ right now, Gottlieb." Hermann whimpers and blushes. He shouldn't enjoy Newt calling him that quite so much, but god help him, he does. "So obedient and respectful, so unlike you. You're in shock at how much you like this, right? Probably thought it'd be, like, the worst. You think you're ready to take my cock like a good boy, Hermann? Let's see."

Quickly, Newt tugs his fingers out of Hermann's arse, and then his palms dig into Hermann's thighs, spreading Hermann’s legs out wide. Hermann hasn't any way to grip into the bed, to push himself up, flat on his stomach and arms uselessly bound behind him, so when Newt's cock nudges his hole and he starts pushing forward, Hermann can do nothing, can only try to relax as best as he can. Newt has taken the time to prep him, so the slide doesn't hurt, but there's pressure, and he doesn't go slow, and Hermann feels himself forced wide, yelping as his pinioned legs tremble under Newt's grip.

" _Fuck_ ," Newt huffs, body bent low across Hermann's back, puffs of air bouncing off Hermann's left shoulder. "Good fucking god, Gottlieb. You need to relax, stop squeezing."

"I c-can't..." Hermann chokes out.

"You will," Newt growls, and he lands a sharp, stinging slap against Hermann's right arse cheek. "Breathe, Gottlieb. Fucking hell, if you make me come from this before I get to fuck you, I'm leaving you like this. You can squirm around on this mattress and I promise you won't get the chance to get off until I'm ready to fuck you again."

Hermann moans and presses his forehead against the sheets, trying to take in air, trying to listen, to be good as Newt has instructed him to. It's so hard, because he's been stretched so wide so quickly, that all he wishes to do is bear down and relieve that pressure. He's intrigued by the idea of disobedience, of Newt's threatened punishment, but not so much that he wants to risk it, so he drags in a great, gulping breath, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax. The tension in his spine tingles and breaks outward with each breath, and that intense pressure begins to fade to a pleasant fullness that he hadn't realized he was missing until now.

"Yellow light," Newt mutters. "Are you okay? Was it too much? Too fast?"

" _Nein_ ," Hermann answers, panting softly. "It was just enough to challenge me. And please, darling, I know you want to make sure I'm alright, but I assure you, I will tell you to stop if I need it. I would rather you not continue to break character. It lessens the delightful mood you've set."

"You really love this, huh?" Newt says.

Hermann makes an affirmative noise, smiling against the duvet. "More than I imagined I would. But please, do continue. Give me everything you have."

Newt responds with a sharp thrust, and Hermann finds his head yanked back by the hair, his surprised shout echoing loudly against the steel walls of the bunk.

"Good," Newt says, "you listened... fuck, god damn, Gottlieb, tight little hole like yours feels so nice."

"Dr. Geiszler... _ah!_ "

Newt's pace is firm and unrelenting, driving deep into him, so fast as to just barely snake against every sensitive spot of his body, except for the peak of the thrust when the head of his cock prods hard into Hermann's prostate. It must be on purpose, Newt knows by now how his body works, well enough that he knows a pace such as this is a recipe for Hermann achieving a rapid, powerful orgasm. Still, Newt would know, but Dr. Geiszler would likely not, and should probably be warned...

"P-please slow down... I'm not going to last..." Hermann moans, wriggling and trying to throw off Newt's pace. It earns him another hard smack on the arse, and fingers digging bruises into his waist.

"Now you want it to last, Gottlieb?" Newt huffs, a sneer laced through his laugh. "Thought you'd rather I finish off quick. You like my cock a little too much?"

"No," Hermann protests, "I, I'd just rather you not punish me for an infraction I've no control over... _ach, mein Gott_!"

"Sure, you wouldn't," Newt says, laughing again when Hermann twists his head to glare at Newt. "Face it, Hermann. You're a little slut who loves taking cock. If you came right now and I kept riding you, you'd complain and protest how unfair it was, until you went right back around to begging for it."

"I would not!" Hermann says, yelping when Newt snaps his hip down and slams right up against the deepest bits of his insides. "B-bloody Christ!"

"Sounds like a challenge, dude," Newt says. "Why don't we see who's right?"

Then, before Hermann can launch another protest, Newt pins him flat and returns to the previous rapidity of his pace, and as much as Hermann squirms and twists and tries to buck him off, he just doesn't have the positioning or strength to do so. Hermann lets out a furious whine as the tightness in his groin builds, the pressure and the heat coalescing into a powerful, lightning bolt that sparks outwards and has him shouting a wordless cry as he releases, and damp warmth soaks the sheets under his belly.

Somehow, Newt has managed to avoid being brought off by Hermann's orgasm. His arms shove under Hermann's chest to wrap him tight and hoist him up, and carefully, so carefully - because if he slips out of Hermann now the tightness will prevent him from reentering for a while - he maneuvers them around to sink back against the pillows at the headboard, Newt sitting cross-legged with Hermann impaled on his cock.

Hermann lets out a desperate whine when Newt starts bucking into him again, short little thrusts that overstimulate the blown nerves that fired off and are recovering from his orgasm.

"Too much, Dr. Gei- _ah_!" He gasps when Newt thrusts hard and growls a warning in his ear, reminding him of their rules. "I mean, s-sir! Please, it's-"

"You can take it, Gottlieb," Newt murmurs, arms holding him upright, tongue exploring the side of Hermann's throat. "Fuck, you taste good. Kay, here's the deal. If I come before you do, you get a day subtracted from your punishment. But if I can get you off again before I come, you're going to spend the night with my spunk dripping out of your ass and I'm gonna fuck you again in the morning."

"That is _disgusting_ ," Hermann replies, straining against the bindings holding his arms. He's starting to feel sore, his arms ache being stretched back so long, though not painfully like in his hip, rather, an accomplished sort of ache, like he's run a marathon and feels the proof of it.

"Then you know what you have to do," Newt says, chuckling and shoving his fingers underneath the leather collar. He doesn't yank hard, but the extra digits tighten the band, pressing grooves into Hermann's throat when he swallows. "You wanna prove you're not a cock slut, Gottlieb? All you've gotta do is keep from coming again. Of course, if you don't come before I do, I'm gonna tie your hands to the headboard and leave you like this all night, so you should ask yourself, which one sucks less?" His other hand slides down Hermann's chest, tweaking one of his nipples; a quick, slight pain, never more than that. Newt knows how much he dislikes long term or extreme pains, but little pokes and prods and pinches are a good reminder as to how sensitive he feels when Newt's hands are all over his body.

Oh, what a cruel conundrum Dr. Geiszler has come up with! Dr. Gottlieb is torn (and so is Hermann, if he’s honest). He could reduce this miserable, degrading torture by an entire day, but by the time Dr. Geiszler is done with him, he is likely to be aroused and wanting again, and would have to spend the whole of the night without release. On the other hand, he can enjoy another orgasm, but would feel this domineering man's seed dripping between his thighs all night, a reminder of his being used and his forced obedience. And then Dr. Geiszler would take him again in the morning (that thought doesn't send a shiver up his spine, certainly not...)

It's an impossible decision, and Hermann cannot choose one or the other, not while Newt's cock is sliding smoothly in and out of his body, lighting up each nerve with heated sensation, too strong to allow coherent thought. Hermann lets himself sink back against Newt's chest, weight bearing down to drive Newt's cock deeper on each thrust. Newt has finally stopped talking, his own moans drowning out any other noise. Hermann looks down to see his cock twitching, slowly rising from its wilted state, shining with streaks of his first orgasm.

It's rather fascinating, Hermann can admit, to see how his body has the capacity to recover and begin to reengage its state of arousal, its delirious want for what Newt is giving to him. Usually, a simple encounter of coitus wouldn't be enough to re-stimulate his libido. In the past, Hermann has required more intense treatment, more precarious positioning and more forceful dominance, likely to agitate his body pains but the only way to drive him into anything close to what one might call 'subspace.' And yet, with a few filthy words, a bit of leather and rope, and a couple of simple positions, Newt has brought him down into a comfortable submission, wherein Hermann finds that he believes Newt when Newt tells Hermann that he can take this, wants to prove that he can listen, that Newt's trust in his abilities is not incorrect.

"Dr. Geiszler," Hermann calls softly, eyelids fluttering shut. "Sir... I want to come again."

"Yeah?" Newt asks. "I bet you do. Taking my cock like a champ. What a good boy you are, Gottlieb." Newts arms return to wrap around Hermann's chest, and he presses a kiss to Hermann's jaw. "Tell me who you belong to this week and I'll give you that nice cock you want."

Hermann whines, grinding down into Newt's lap. His prick is standing upright again, waiting for attention. It's shiny and swollen with a deep red color, as red as the blush that creeps up Hermann's chest and cheeks.

Newt is asking him to verbalize again, and Hermann has never been good at it, must be forced to do so. He bites his lip and shakes his head. Newts hips still, and he holds Hermann tightly, preventing him from moving, from grinding, from enjoying that fantastic fullness.

"Why...?" Hermann moans.

"You don't get this cock until you say, dude," Newt responds. "So, tell me who your master is."

Hermann can't deal with this stillness, this lack of motion and sensation after so much of it this evening, so he moans out an answer. " _You are_ , sir."

"I am what, Gottlieb?"

Hermann whimpers, biting his lip in frustration, choking out more words. "Y-you are my master, sir. I'm..."

"Tell me what you are, Hermann. Just admit it, you'll feel so much better."

"...I'm your slut!" Hermann shouts, gasping in relief when Newt drives back into him. "Ah, _mein Gott!_ I- I'm your good boy!"

Hermann feels the smile against his throat, the soft, loving kiss Newt leaves there.

"Yes, you are, Hermann," Newt murmurs.

Then he's off, holding Hermann's hips and thrusting up, hitting that overstimulated prostate over and over, and it's all so much, too much. Hermann's cock throbs and something in him screams for release, and he might ask permission to come but Newt is too focused on fucking him, too quick with the snap of his hips, so that suddenly there's a burst of wonderful pleasure and Hermann cries out as his second orgasm spills across his lap, even more powerful than the last.

Newt shudders to a halt as Hermann's body constricts around him, and Hermann feels the heat of Newt's own release inside of him, hears the quiet moans of _yes, Hermann, yes_ against his ear. Then it's over. Hermann is numb and sore, and his mind is floating somewhere above them. He barely registers as Newt slides out of him, quickly untying the ropes and freeing his arms, but he does notice the sharp aches that echo in his shoulders when he lowers his limbs. Hermann hisses, shifting and stretching his arms, working out the kinks.

Two fingers curl into the metal ring on Hermann's collar, and tug his neck so that he turns his head to look at a sleepy, grinning Newt.

"Knew it," Newt says, patting the mattress beside him. "You crave a good dicking."

Hermann stifles a snort, biting his lip to stop from smiling. "Simple biology, Dr. Geiszler. That is all."

"Oh, really? Which of us is the biologist, and which of us is the man who just admitted to being my slut?"

"I cannot be held responsible for what I say under duress," Hermann argues, amused. He's still trying to keep in character, although Gottlieb is so in denial that it's tiring to pretend he didn't just enjoy the experience.

Newt raises an eyebrow. "Uh huh."

"I presume you'll be going to sleep then?" Hermann asks, slowly moving away, as if he's going to pop back to his own quarters. Happily, Newt is predictable and grabs his arms, hauling Hermann down to lie beside him "What are you doing?" Hermann asks, with fake outrage. "I need to return to my room."

"No, you don't," Newt replies, pulling Hermann close to his chest. "I told you that you're not allowed to clean yourself up and I damn sure don't trust you to listen if you leave. And I'm too lazy to go find you tomorrow to fuck you again. So, you're staying here."

"I cannot stay here," Hermann tries. "What if someone comes looking for me?"

"You're a smart guy sometimes, you'll figure out an excuse," Newt says. His hand slides down, and Hermann shivers when one of his fingers prods against Hermann's opening. "Hmmm, you're too damn clean."

"What are you- Newt!" Hermann gasps as Newt slides two fingers back into him. "I can't, not again, please!" Surely Newt is joking? Hermann really does not want to call a red light and put a stop to this.

"Relax, Hermann," Newt says, curling his fingers and drawing them back out. There's a dampness from the release that dribbles out with them, and Hermann is shocked when Newt drags the fingers across Hermann's arse, streaking his skin with the remains of Newt's seed. "Told you. I want you feeling dirty and used."

Newt thrusts his fingers back inside Hermann, who trembles but bites back a protest as Newt draws more and more of the cum out to drip and roll down Hermann's backside. This is an odd, new way of being marked, being debased and degraded by his partner. Newt is letting him know that even this is out of Hermann's control, that Newt will keep him looking well-buggered and filthy if he chooses to.

When Newt dips a third finger into him, he curls the digits together and drags more cum across Hermann's taint, coating his inner thighs with the stuff. Hermann moans and buries his face in Newt's chest, shivering with embarrassment. If Newt wanted him to feel used, he's achieved it.

"There," Newt says, a satisfied rumbling in his chest. "Oh, wait, almost forgot." His other hand slips between them, and Hermann feels it swirling and wiping up Hermann's own seed, before Newt brings it up and presses the digits against Hermann's lips. "You know what to do."

Newt is truly pushing the limits of his obedience, but Hermann knows it’s a challenge, to see how much he can take, and frankly, he's not going to let Newt win this round. So, he draws the fingers into his mouth and suckles on them, smiling when Newt's eyes widen, watching him with rapt attention.

"Good boy," Newt breathes out, withdrawing his fingers. "Truly, Dr. Gottlieb, you've outdone yourself."

"Am I allowed to sleep now, sir?" Hermann asks, drawling the last word a bit sarcastically, like Dr. Gottlieb is getting his sass and spine back.

Newt smirks and nods. "Get as many REM cycles as you can, Gottlieb. You're gonna need them, I'm putting you through your paces tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told ya'll. Absolutely FILTHY.
> 
> Panties are coming next chapter, Too, I promise ;)


	3. Chapter 3

The morning begins with Newt putting Hermann back on his stomach for a quick buggering. Hermann is half awake by the time Newt slides into him, and he's honestly thanking any higher power listening that he didn't clean himself up, because the remains of Newt's release from the night before make the thrusting smooth and friction-less, perfect for an early morning session.

It's only a quick encounter, over in a few minutes, no fuss over Hermann needing to prove how obedient he will be to Newt's demands. Newt orders him to the shower afterwards, tells him to get squeaky clean, as if Hermann would willingly walk around all day with Newt's release dripping down his thighs. Even he isn't that much of a masochist. Usually. One experimental evening in his undergraduate doesn't count.

When he steps out of the shower, there is a set of clothing laid out for him on Newt's bed, except he doesn't recognize anything. The red sweater is a good size smaller than he normally wears, as are the grey button-down and black jeans. None of the items are from his closet. They had to have been purchased by Newt. Newt is buying him clothes now?

"What is all this?" Hermann asks, holding the sweater up towards Newt, who is wrapped in only a towel and preparing to step into the bathroom. "I can't wear this, it's far too small."

"It's actually the right size for you, dude," Newt says, shrugging. "If you're going to be mine for the next week, you're gonna look like someone who knows how to dress himself. My sluts always look good, that's like the first rule." The wink he sends Herman is unconvincing.

Hermann wiggles the sweater in the air. "Is this really necessary, Dr. Geiszler? Surely you have more important things to do than spend every moment of the next week controlling all aspects of my life."

"Hmmm, my schedule is pretty clear, dude. Guess I don't?" The shoulder shrug is even more unconvincing than the shit-eating grin Newt wears across his face. Hermann is starting to get the idea that Newt's "ideas" took quite a lot more planning than initially thought. "Now, put it all on and get to work. I'll be down there in a few. You'd better get whatever's most important done first, because your schedule, like your ass, belongs to me." As if to emphasize, Newt leans over and squeezes Hermann's left arse cheek. Hermann scowls and turns away.

He glares at the clothes for a while, as if he tries hard enough, they'll dissolve into thin air. No luck, though. They continue to lie on the bed, awaiting Hermann's use. He reaches a hand up and fingers the leather collar as he looks them over. It’s the beginning of what could become a habit, he realizes, as he swallows and finds himself savoring the rub of the material against his throat. Apparently, his body has also decided that's a cue for more debauchery, because certain parts start waking up, and he snatches his hand back quickly, scowling again.

He yanks the button-down off the bed, frowning when he realizes something.

"Newton?" he shouts. "Where is my underwear?"

"Under the jeans, dude!" Newt yells back.

Hermann lifts up the specified garment and nearly screams.

Ruby red panties lie beneath, with black lace trimming the edges and a tiny bow at the center.

" _Are you bloody joking, Newton?_ "

"It's either those or commando. Tell you what, you can decide."

Hermann curses him but tries on the panties. They fit perfectly, soft and pleasant against his bare skin, and they're obviously made for someone with a package, holding him effortlessly in place.

Bastard.

The other clothing is tighter than he's used to, but nothing bulges inappropriately, and the collar stays hidden under the button up, just as Newt had promised.

When Hermann glances at himself in the mirror, he's shocked to find someone half-way fashionable staring back. It makes him feel self-conscious, like perhaps his undercut will need to be done away with, something more modern and youthful to replace it, to match these new clothes... But no. This is all for show. Newt has never indicated that he finds Hermann's physical appearance displeasing (other than the occasional good-natured ruffling about whether he's trying to convince the PPDC to enact tenure, dressing as he does like an aged college professor).

If Hermann had to guess as to Newt's motives - and he's often quite good at it, more than Newt would ever admit - Newt just wants him to feel a bit pampered, and a bit out of his comfort zone. Just like he'd asked to be.

Ahh. Well. Newt can be so thoughtful when he chooses to.

Hermann departs for the lab soon after, but he barely has time to run through his emails before Newt is striding in, yawning and stretching his arms.

"Go get me breakfast," he says, nudging Hermann out of his own rolling chair and dropping into it. He lets out a wolf whistle, eyes ghosting up and down Hermann's body. Hermann feels the rush of color creeping onto his cheeks; it's still quite hard for him to accept the fact that Newt is genuinely attracted to him, and he reminds himself that Dr. Gottlieb would show some disgruntled fury at being objectified as such.

"What would you like, sir?" Hermann grumbles, folding his arms. "Shall I bring it on a tray, or are you planning on bending me over and using me as a table too?" Anger, frustration, he's rather good at those emotions when he needs to be.

Newt grins, clicking his tongue and pointing a finger gun at him. "Don't tempt me. You know what I like, Gottlieb, you've had a running commentary on my dietary choices for years. We can make it a game. If you choose right, you'll get breakfast as well. If you don't, you'll be running on empty until lunch."

"Starvation? Really, Dr. Ge- really, sir?" Hermann grouses. "You said yourself that I needed to be kept in good shape for whatever malicious plans you have in store."

Newt laughs, patting Hermann on the hip. "You're a grown ass man, you can handle not eating for a while. You do it all the time, voluntarily, when you get overzealous with the numbers. I've seen you." Yes, and Newt has chided him for it, just as he's chided Newt on the nights Newt forgets that his own biological systems are just as important as the ones he studies. "Now, fetch, my good boy."

Hermann swallows down the little spark of pleasure that coalesces in his stomach. Damn Newt, is it that obvious how affected he is by the praise? He can't be this transparent. Of course, with the way Newt is blatantly staring at his crotch, like he's waiting for something to happen... Hermann sighs and turns away.

It isn't too long before he returns, balancing a tray laden with options of cereal, French toast, sausages and several fruit juices. Newt looks over them and nods approvingly, snatching the tray away.

"Go sit on the couch," he says, resting the tray across his lap. "You'll get breakfast when I'm done."

Hermann has a bad suspicion, but surely not, surely, he wouldn't... He listens, though, sitting on the couch, his stomach rumbling angrily as he watches Newt devour everything on the tray, leaving behind a single sausage link, a slice of French toast, and a half a glass of orange juice.

He belches loudly, dropping the tray onto the desk and standing up. Then he crosses the distance in three strides and plops down, facing Hermann, cross-legged on the cushion. He snickers when Hermann's stomach makes another warbling noise.

"Hungry, Dr. Gottlieb?" Newt asks nonchalantly. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes, sir," Hermann snaps. He doesn't trust himself to say anything else. Roleplay or not, Hermann on an empty stomach is a crabby bastard, and he knows Newt is just having him on, having a bit of fun, and if Hermann told him red-light, Newt would be dragging Hermann out the door a moment later, back to the cafeteria and serving him whatever he liked.

"Mmmm, I guess no matter what, my slut should get three meals a day." Newt shrugs, lowering his hands and flicking open the button of his jeans.

_Bloody Christ_ , Hermann thinks, _I knew it._

"What are you doing?" Hermann asks, playing the part of the unsuspecting Dr. Gottlieb, even though he very well knows what Newt intends to do.

"Protein is a vital part of a balanced diet, Hermann. I know biology is my field, but you've gotta know that, man." Newt inches down the zipper, freeing his already hardened cock. Hermann takes a moment to consider how very odd their sexual tastes are. "So you're going to get that vital protein, although maybe not the way you want."

"Are you bloody _joking_?" Hermann spits out. "You expect me to-"

Hermann doesn't even see Newt's hand dart out, that's how fast he does it. Grabbing Hermann by the front of his shirt, Newt hauls him closer, his fingers slipping underneath the collar to twist and tighten in the hidden leather band beneath. Hermann gasps, and finds the leather is pulling tight against his Adam's apple, forcing him to pant for air.

"I expect you to listen, like the good boy you were told to be, Gottlieb," Newt explains. There's a spark of amusement in his eye, and his grip on the collar is just loose enough that he's not fully cutting Hermann's air off. "You can either take what's being given or get nothing. You already gave me lip about the underwear this morning, don't think I forgot that." As if remembering only now, Newt's other hand slips under Hermann's jeans, palming him under the fabric of the panties. Hermann shudders, forcing himself not to buck up against that hand. "Good, you wore them, I was hoping you were smart enough to obey."

As much as Hermann wants to continue this... he needs to clarify something.

"Yellow light," he says.

Instantly, like a switch has been flipped, Newt's entire aura changes. He lets go of Hermann's collar, both hands coming up to cup Hermann's jaw.

"What's wrong? What did I do?" Newt asks. There's real concern in his voice, and Hermann had wanted to avoid that. Blast it.

"Do you really expect me to work a full day satiated by your cum alone, Newton?"

Newt shakes his head. "No, dude, of course not! I promise, I wasn't gonna be that mean."

"You have a plan then?" Hermann asks.

When Newt nods, that's enough for Hermann, the building knot of anxiety in his chest untwisting and dissolving away. He trusts Newt, and if Newt says there is a plan in place, then he will follow along.

"Alright,” Hermann says. “As long as you understand my actual biological limitations. You may proceed. Green light."

Newt's expression hardens up again, and one hand goes back underneath Hermann's shirt, gripping the leather collar ring and pulling him down, all the way down. Hermann grunts as his lips meet the tip of Newt's cockhead.

"Open up, Gottlieb," Newt says. "Breakfast is served."

True to the game, Newt fucks his mouth for a while and comes down Hermann's throat, holding him still so that Hermann swallows every last drop. When he's done, he pats Hermann's cheek and gets up, getting the tray and lying it across Hermann's lap, standing above him.

"I'm letting you have the leftovers as a reward. What do you say, slut?"

Hermann keeps his eyes down in deference. Part of him wants to play the rebellious blackmail victim, but the other part simply wishes to acquiesce and submit as he is wont to do. Besides, he is rather hungry, and he'd prefer something to wash the taste of cum out of his mouth.

"Thank you, sir," Hermann mutters, glancing up when Newt tips his chin back. The kiss that comes is surprisingly soft, as is the hand stroking across his cheek.

"See? Not so hard," Newt mumbles against his mouth. His eyes are full of mischief, and Hermann isn't quite sure whether he's playing the blackmailer or himself. "I know I'm wearing you down, Gottlieb. You wanna keep pretending you're getting nothing out of this, go right ahead. It's only a week, and then you'll be free, and I won't bother you again. Unless you want me to?" He smiles, and Hermann blinks, breath caught in his throat. "Consider it, yeah? You're only making this harder for yourself by resisting. I mean what I said, I take care of things that belong to me. I'd take care of you, Hermann, if you let me."

Hermann doesn't know how to respond. What kind of offer is this? Is it real, all part of the act? They're already engaging in a dominant and submissive relationship in the bedroom on a regular basis. Does Newt want something more? Is he saying it right now? Does Hermann want something more? Not Dr. Gottlieb, but Hermann himself?

Before he can answer, Newt pulls away, motioning behind him.

"Eat everything on that plate," he orders. "I left some of my boring-ass paperwork on your desk. I expect it done before you get started on your own work. If you have to stay late to complete your assignments, well..." Newt shrugs, grinning. "Guess you'll be working late."

Hermann bites his lip. He hadn't been expecting Newt to offload his paperwork, but he probably should've known Newt would take a full week of complete submission to its most logical extreme: allowing him to be as lazy as possible. He'd shown it by forcing Hermann to get him food, and now he's showing it as he props his shoes up on his own desk, popping earbuds into his ears and tapping his phone until music begins to play. He winks at Hermann, folds his arms behind his head, and closes his eyes.

"Dot the 'eyes' and cross the 'tees,' Herms!" Newt says. "You'll get a punishment for every one that you miss!"

Hermann finds that it takes him at least two hours to fill out the various requisition forms, bio-hazard reports, and maintenance reports that Newt left in a messy pile over his keyboard. His grumpiness by the end is entirely real. He despises paperwork, and his own is bad enough, so he's feeling completely Gottliebian when he finishes and goes to begin his own work, only to have Newt come over, check the documents, and then bend him over his desk, planting a hand firmly into his back.

"I counted at least fifteen missed dots and crosses, Dr. Gottlieb," Newt tsks. "I just talked to you about obedience and listening to your master, dude. These were clearly on purpose."

They absolutely were, but Hermann isn't about to admit it.

"I'm doubtful that paperwork looks half as good when you complete it as what I've done to it, _sir_ ," Hermann snarks.

The first slap against his arse is sharp and unexpected. Hermann yelps, gripping the edges of the desk, his face pressed into the cold metal.

"That's not the point, man," Newt responds, rubbing the same hand over the spot he just hit. "The point is that I expect you to listen when I tell you to do something. What happened to my good boy?"

"I suppose I'm not a good as you first presumed," Hermann spits out, gasping as Newt lands another slap against the same spot. "Bloody hell, I swear, I will get vengeance upon you someday. Do you hear me?"

"I do," Newt says. "I'd rather not."

Newt shuffles behind him for a moment, and then a thick linen is pressed into Hermann's mouth. He moans, realizing it's his own kerchief, the one left in his blazer pocket, the one he used to clean himself off with two days ago after wanking over Newt's samples. It was fresh before he wiped his prick clean of the droplets of his own release. Newt saw the tape, saw him tidy himself up... he must know. God, he knows, and he's gagging Hermann with it anyway.

"Better," Newt says, once Hermann has been thoroughly silenced. "Hold the table. Don't move, and keep your mouth shut. I'm disappointed, Dr. Gottlieb. Very disappointed."

Newt lays into him, and Hermann counts off the strikes, eight, nine, ten... The man has an amazing skill set for precision, because he's hitting the same spot every time, so that by the time he's done, stepping away and snapping at Hermann to get back to work, Hermann swears there's a perfect imprint of Newt's hand across his right arse cheek. It burns sharply, and after Hermann has spit out the cloth and tries to sit, he hisses at the bone deep ache, adjusting to rest his weight on the other cheek.

It's almost shameful to see how tight the front of his pants has become, his cock eager and positively affected by Newt's swift-handed punishment. Hermann groans softly, wishing that Newt had at least had the courtesy to mix punishment with a reward for taking it so well.

"Having some trouble over there, Gottlieb?" Newt calls. "You should try an ice pack."

Hermann grumbles under his breath, ignoring Newt and getting back to work.

Lunchtime brings about the same routine. Newt orders Hermann to the cafeteria, eats most of what Hermann brings back, buggers his mouth and makes Hermann swallow his cum. Then, and only then, does Hermann get the leftovers, and another stack of paperwork appears.

"Sir, I have important work to do!" Hermann complains. "You may be enjoying this game, but our quarterly funding meeting is in two days, and I need time to complete it! I'll have to work through my day off tomorrow if I can't finish it tonight."

"That's not happening," Newt says, tapping through his phone, back in his own desk chair. "You're all mine tomorrow, for the whole day. So, I guess you'd better get it all done tonight. And you might want to plan for when I bend you over that couch later and get a little stress out of my system. All this ordering you around has been _exhausting_."

Newt is being such a little shit, and both Newt and Hermann know it. Hermann supposes he understood Newt would playact as a spoiled, bratty dominant, dialing up his actual negative qualities to a hyperbolic extreme. It's endlessly obnoxious, but honestly, it makes for an exciting challenge, Hermann having to both placate and resist this fickle man who holds so much power over him. His Dr. Gottlieb personality is slowly, begrudgingly accepting that he'll have to go along with this until Newt deigns to release him, and Gottlieb is starting to bend, starting to find that pleasing Newt can be enjoyable, coming around to Hermann's line of thinking, wherein he wants to be Newt's good boy, wants to know that Newt is pleased by his submission and obedience.

Thankfully, this pile of paperwork is much less obnoxious than the last one. Hermann does manage to get more work done, but of course it's not enough, and when Newt slides up behind him around seven, one hand palming him through the jeans, the other slipping under his hemline, Hermann groans and drops his head.

"Please, sir," Hermann begs, "I'm not nearly done. Fixing up my presentation will be another two hours, at the least."

"Mmmmm, don't care," Newt mutters in his ear. "Who owns you, Gottlieb?"

Hermann swallows. "...you do. Sir."

"And what does that mean, Hermann? What are the rules?"

"Newton..." He whimpers when Newt squeezes him tightly, a warning. "Fine. It, it means that I'm to listen and obey whatever you ask of me, whether I like it or not."

"Right," Newt replies, nipping at his earlobe. His teeth worry eagerly at the skin, oh, the bastard knows how much Hermann likes that... "So, you're going to get on your stomach and let me shove my cock into that pretty, abused bottom of yours. I'm going to fuck you nice and deep and you're gonna let me hear how good it feels."

Hermann moans softly, he can picture it, can taste the anticipation of it. The late hour be damned.

"Al-alright," he stammers as Newt pulls him over to the couch, lies him down and proceeds to do exactly as he'd promised to. Hermann's arse is still sore, and every time Newt thrusts into him, he feels a tingling ache right where he was spanked, but it's a surprisingly good feeling, just like Newt's hands tugging back his hair, Newt's mouth nipping and biting the back of his neck, Newt's tongue lapping at the curve of his throat.

Hermann does let him know how good it feels, shouts and whines and bucks and pleads to be fucked deeper, burning red every time Newt teases him, mocking how much Dr. Gottlieb is enjoying getting used by him.

"You know, I'm doing the rest of the world a service," Newt says, panting and snapping his hips. "Taking you down a peg, fucking all your haughtiness right out of you. The next time you want to act all high and mighty over someone, lord it up, just remember how pathetic you sound right now, how needy you are for my cock."

" _Newton!_ " Hermann yelps, tears practically leaking down his cheeks. Newton is the dirtiest dirty talking partner Hermann has ever had. He loves whispering filthy things in Hermann's ear, verbally degrading him, and Hermann laps it up, begs for more.  "Please, enough mockery!" he gasps. Except, no, not really. He wants _more._

"You're a slut, Hermann," Newt gasps. "A filthy slut. You should only open your mouth to choke on my dick. I should tie you up and invite everyone in the Shatterdome with a cock to fuck you wide open, show you exactly where your place is."

"No," Hermann whimpers, "nobody else... please..."

"Just me, then?"

"Ye-es..."

"Okay... shit. Just me, just my cock. You like taking it, slut?"

Hermann whimpers again, pressing his face into the couch cushion. "It, it feels good, sir!"

Newt chuckles, grabbing Hermann's hips and speeding up his pace. "Then take it deeper. Yeah, there you go, let me hear you moan, my filthy slut."

They don't last too much longer or rather, Newt doesn't, spilling into Hermann a minute later. He pulls out quickly, leaving Hermann sprawled on the couch. Hermann shakily reaches under himself to try and get off, but Newt yanks his wrist back.

"Didn't say you were allowed to come yet."

Hermann moans, cursing under his breath and curling into himself. Newt fishes the kerchief out of the blazer pocket again and wipes himself off, then goes back over to Hermann and cleans him up. He slides the silky red panties back up Hermann’s waist, cupping him through the fabric and smiling when Hermann whimpers and squirms, pleading with his eyes for Newt to let him come. But alas, Newt only teases him for a few more moments before pulling his hands away.

"You still have some work, right?" Newt asks, sitting next to Hermann’s head, stroking a gentle hand up and down his side, markedly different than the forceful, harsh words and motions he'd been doing just before.

Hermann nods, sighing. "Two hours’ worth, about. Perhaps less if I fudge a few things."

Newt chuckles, shaking his head. "Don't. You work better if everything is ordered and correct. Finish up your work. I'm going to dinner and then back to the room. Can I trust you to eat a meal and then join me once you're done?"

Hermann snorts. "Real food and some time to myself? Certainly, I can manage that, sir."

"Smartass. Don't get cocky, that's my job."

Hermann finds himself laughing into his fist, and Newt joins him.

"Yellow light," Newt giggles out, smiling. "Are you still okay, babe? Still enjoying this?"

"Mmmmm," Hermann replies, nuzzling into Newt's leg. "Dr. Gottlieb is running out of energy to resist the commanding charms of Dr. Geiszler. I expect another day and you'll have him begging to be yours, permanently."

"And you?" Newt asks. "How is Hermann feeling about all this? Cause that's, like, the most important part to me."

Hermann smiles up at him, touched by the admission. "I’m quite pleased with how this is turning out. I've never really considered one of the longer, slow-burn sessions but the length of the ordeal just serves to intensify every part of it."

"I told you, dude," Newt says. "Sometimes, playing the long game is better. Low and slow instead of hard and fast. Your hip's still fine, right?"

"Yes, no more pain than average," Hermann agrees. "I'm not sure that I'll be able to keep this up for an entire week, however."

"I didn't expect you to," Newt says, shrugging. "All about the fantasy." He leans down, pecking Hermann on the forehead. "Okay, finish up. When you get back to the room, are we green to go?"

"Green as grass, darling," Hermann says. "I think I can manage another day, especially since we're off tomorrow."

"Oh, yes, I've got some-"

"Ideas, yes, I quite enjoy your ideas."

"Then I'm gonna blow your mind with some of the ones I’ve got coming up."

"I look forward to it."

That night, Newt ties Hermann's hands in front of him and makes Hermann ride his lap, teasing and torturing Hermann's nipples with his tongue and teeth, until Hermann is begging for him to relent. Newt gives him the same choice as the previous evening, and again, Hermann chooses to be brought off not once, but twice, squirming in Newt's lap afterwards as Newt pushes thick fingers into him and smears cum across Hermann's thighs.

"Tomorrow's gonna be fun," Newt says as they lie in repose, Hermann's hands still bound in front, Newt's arms wrapped around his waist. "I have the whole day to torture you."

"No different than today or yesterday," Hermann counters, yawning. "You have yet to give me any sort of peace."

"I'm on a limited time frame, dude. Are you suggesting I don't have anything new up my sleeve?" Newt cups his chin, tugging Hermann to face him. "Do you want to test that theory?"

He looks so serious, that Hermann shivers and shakes his head. "No. I, I just meant-"

"I know what you meant, Gottlieb," Newt says. "Your sass is a mile wide. Even under threat of professional ruin, you can't help running your mouth."

Hermann scowls, biting back a retort. Newt smiles to see it.

"Good boy," Newt says. "I don't have to exert control if you learn to control yourself."

The hand stroking his head is a pleasant surprise. The fight goes out of Gottlieb, goes out of Hermann, and he preens under the attention, eyes closing, stifling a yawn.

"Sleep, Hermann," Newt mumbles, stroking his hair over and over. "Tomorrow I'm gonna show you exactly how nice being my pet can be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this might've been not as filthy as the last chapter.... but I promise, it's gonna get so much dirtier.
> 
> More panties coming >:3


	4. Chapter 4

There's another new button-down waiting for Hermann in the morning, this one a bold green, with matching navy-blue jeans and a black pair of panties. A dark blue blazer completes the look of a youthful hipster scientist, which is apparently what Newt likes dressing him as.

"You should look nice when somebody takes you out for the day," Newt says, eyeing Hermann as he steps out of the bathroom doorway draped in a towel. Newt had woken earlier and showered, dressed in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, familiar leather jacket slung over his shoulder. His pecs and his pudge are both slightly visible in this shirt. Hermann loves it, loves the hint of what lies beneath, something only he's allowed to see.

"...Thank you. Sir," Hermann says, looking over the articles, all sharply ironed and pressed to look their best.

Newt nods, smiling. "Well, you'll be paying for everything else today, so consider it a preemptive gift in return."

Hermann glances sharply at him. "What- I'm paying for what?"

"Everything," Newt repeats, getting up. "Whatever I tell you to. You're obeying my every word, which means if I tell you to pay for something, then you pay for it."

"You said you didn't want money!" Hermann yelps, glaring, even though he understands what Newt is doing. They had an entire conversation about it this morning before Hermann hopped into the shower. 'Financial domination,' Newt had called it, just another way for Dr. Gottlieb to lose control, for Hermann to cede decision-making to Newt. They agreed upon a set amount of money that Newt would be allowed to spend, since obviously they weren't trying to bankrupt Hermann. Still, Dr. Gottlieb isn't aware of that.

"It's not about the money, Gottlieb," Newt says, lounging on the bed. "It's about reminding you who's in charge. Relax, I'm not gonna destroy your life savings or anything. I like it when my sluts are fiscally responsible." He grins and winks, tossing the panties at Hermann's face. "Put 'em on. Gonna need easy access to you later."

Hermann fake grouses, snatching the undergarment and glaring as Newt ogles him, watching Hermann dress, ordering him to go more slowly, smooth his hands down his shirt, his legs, make sure everything fits well, touch himself through the fabric, _yes, just like that, good boy_ , until he's fully clothed and Newt orders his hands to his sides.

"Look at you," Newt says, standing up and coming over to slide his hands down Hermann's arms. "Handsome as hell. You're not allowed to hide behind stuffy sweaters today." He lifts a hand and draws the leather collar out from under the shirt, tugging Hermann forward into a biting kiss. "Mmmm. Gonna show you off, let everyone see what's mine. Utterly beautiful."

Hermann shivers and swallows, glancing down. When he's not spitting out filthy language, Newt will pepper Hermann with compliments so foreign and unknown before this relationship that it's quite hard for Hermann to accept them so freely, though he's learning. And the way Newt is looking at him now, so lovingly, so fond, that's all Newton, no Dr. Geiszler involved.

"Thank you, Newt," Hermann says, looking back up, smiling when Newt smiles. "I, ah, mean, sir."

"Good boy," Newt says, chuckling and tucking Hermann's collar back under his shirt. "Come on, I've got our whole day planned out."

Hermann is feeling quite nervous as they trot down the hall, following Newt past groups of Shatterdome employees, some of whom look as though they've just returned from an evening of heavy drinking and dancing, others of whom seem to have the same idea to leave the facility and enjoy the gorgeous weather. The leather around his neck jumps to the forefront of his mind every time someone he knows waves or calls a greeting, and Hermann is glad for the way Newt moves quickly, not allowing Hermann any time to stop and chat, not as if he would care to right now.

Nothing is out of the ordinary, other than the more fashionable dress -which is commented on and complimented by several passerbys, forcing Hermann to mutter a polite thanks before looking to Newt, who seems more and more pleased every time his handiwork is acknowledged- and of course, the collar hiding beneath the clothes. And yet, it’s exciting, because nobody knows that there's leather wrapped around his throat, nobody knows that he's following Newt out of obedience, nobody knows about the character Hermann is pretending himself to be. He imagines how Dr. Gottlieb's initial wariness at being paraded around and shown off like a prize is giving way to amazement, because Dr. Gottlieb is surely used to not being acknowledged for his looks or given this kind of positive attention. Not to say Hermann is used to it either, and maybe the tinge of blush that colors his cheeks at every passing compliment isn't so pretended.

When they get into the elevator to head to the ground floor, they stand in the back, and Newt casually slips a hand into Hermann's back pocket, gently squeezing him and leaning up (Hermann will never not be amused that his dominant partner must stretch up to meet him) to whisper in Hermann's ear.

"You like all this attention, Gottlieb?" Newt asks, low enough so that no one else can hear him. "Don't answer, it's rhetorical. I can see your reaction to all these people fawning all over you."

Hermann glances down at him, saying nothing, as he's been ordered to. There's an amused twinkle in Newt's eye, and he kneads the flesh he's gripping, massaging with firm fingers, and Hermann continues saying nothing, trying to show no indication that he's being affected, even as he feels a familiar twitch at the base of his cock.

"Just remember," Newt continues, "they're all gonna look, but I'm the only one who gets to touch." He grins, squeezes Hermann one more time, and then draws his hand back out as the elevator doors slide open. Hermann can feel a muted tingling where Newt's hand has just left. It's warm and pleasant, reminding him of last night's activities as they head out the door.

Newt waves down a taxi, giving the driver an address and then glancing between the card payment machine hooked to the partition and Hermann with a pointed look, like he's saying, _take the hint._ Hermann sighs, a little melodramatically, and fishes out his wallet, swiping his card into the reader. Newt grins happily, mouths _good boy_ at him and rests his hand on Hermann's knee, leaning into his side.

The taxi ride is delightful torture, with Newt's comfortable weight and warmth pressed against him. It doesn't help that Newt's hand doesn't stay on his knee for very long, stroking teasingly up and down his leg, never close enough to anywhere important, but enough gentleness to the ministrations that Hermann almost purrs in delight, feeling very much like a beloved cat rewarded for simply sitting within petting distance.

Hermann kicks himself for not recognizing the address Newt gave, although most normal people would've just said to take them to the Hong Kong Aquarium, not attempted some sort of subterfuge over their destination.

"Haven't you been here several dozen times by now?" Hermann asks as they step out of the taxi. He knows that Newt comes here on some days off, loves to study the anatomy of the marine life and take notes, comparing them to the Kaiju, noting the wildly differing evolutionary tracks and bulking up his 'evidence' that the Kaiju are in fact, not naturally occurring creatures. Hermann has heard enough rants about the subject to be his own expert.

"I have," Newt says, clasping his hand. "But you haven't."

"Since when are you concerned about my edification on marine life?" Hermann grouses, trying to tug his hand away. Gottlieb would be nervous about someone they know seeing them. Newt's grip is too firm, however, and if Hermann pulls any harder, he risks going off balance and ruining perfectly good new clothes by falling and ripping them or getting them covered in street filth.

"No one we know is here, Gottlieb. Relax," Newt says, voice as smooth and confident as he ever manages. "And I told you yesterday, I'm gonna show you what it would be like to be my pet on a full-time basis. It's not just about the sex, dude."

"Wasn't that the whole point of this?" Hermann asks, following as Newt leads them towards the front entrance. "I assumed you were taking advantage of holding something over me to fulfill all of those filthy sexual desires you have."

"I mean, yeah, that isn't _not_ part of it," Newt replies. He lets go of Hermann's hand to pull the door open, holding it wide for Hermann and motioning him through, smirking at the surprised look on Hermann's face. "But that isn't all of it.

"I don't understand," Hermann says as they walk towards the ticket counter. The lobby is blessedly empty, no groups of families skittering about, which would make this scenario much more awkward. "What else do you want from me? I'm already giving you whatever you ask for."

"You're not, though," Newt says.

They pause their conversation to purchase their tickets, and Hermann hands over his card without even being given a look, because it's easier to listen and anticipate what Newt wants from him. Newt was right, damn him for that. Things are going smoothly this morning, since he's decided to only put up a fight over more important matters.

When they walk away, Newt clasps his hand again. "You're doing what I say, but only because of this threat hanging over you. But you're also realizing that you like having to submit. You like how it makes you feel."

"Preposterous," Hermann says, biting back the silly grin that's completely genuine. Apparently, Dr. Geiszler is continuing his quest to make Dr. Gottlieb admit he enjoys being dominated. _Arguing with Gottlieb isn't going to work, darling_ , Hermann thinks. _Not while he's defensive and has no reason to admit otherwise._ "Any enjoyment I've gotten has been caused by natural biological processes. A man is going to achieve orgasm when his prostate is stimulated, no matter his emotional involvement in the matter."

"True," Newt admits, handing their tickets to the clerk. He pauses while they move through the entrance, far away from any listening ears, and Hermann watches Newt glance about, deciding on a direction. "But not just anyone is going to become aroused when someone calls them degrading names and makes them swallow their own cum."

"I..." Hermann really has no answer to that, glancing away with a blush when Newt eyes him. It's true, not just anyone would enjoy that.

"You like feeling out of control, Gottlieb," Newt says, tugging him towards the right path. "There's nothing wrong with that, dude. And I like taking that control and seeing how you react. Like, we could've spent all day in the bedroom, and I could've had my dick in your ass the whole time, but instead we're at the aquarium, and you're wearing clothes I picked out for you, with a little bit of hidden jewelry to remind you who's in charge, and you've obediently spent your discretionary income on items I've ordered you to. And it's giving you a thrill, isn't it?"

Hermann can't respond again, because Newt is too correct, far too correct. He feels Newt give his hand a tight squeeze.

"Hey, that wasn't rhetorical. Tell me how it's making you feel. I want your honest answer."

"I feel as though no matter what I say or do, you'll insist on your own interpretation of events."

Newt snickers, expression relaxed, like he expects this and enjoys the fight, his own little thrill. "Still feisty, aren't you? Man, I love that you still think you can win this. Didn't I tell you already? By the end of this, you're gonna be begging to stay my slut."

"You've a high expectation of your own skills, Dr. Gesizler," Hermann retorts.

Verbal sparring with Newton, when he knows there's no malice behind it, is a highlight of his day. The man's argumentative style borders on nonsensical, and of course the haughty Dr. Gottlieb would assume this too is nonsense.

But Hermann knows better, can tell that behind the care-free attitude, Newt, or at least Dr. Geiszler, is quite serious. And it’s been eating at Hermann since last night, trying to figure out the line between Newt and Newt's character and where it ends. What part of what he's saying is an act, and what part is the genuine Newt, trying to hint something to Hermann?

Or perhaps it's all an act. Why should Hermann expect any different? They've always kept their dalliances contained to the bedroom in the past, and just because Newt is gracious enough to try a new sort of dominance and submission play, it doesn't mean he genuinely would want to keep it up.

And would Hermann?

He admits, the experience of attending to Newt's every desire, while tiring, is fulfilling something deep within him; a need to be needed. To show Newt how dearly he cares for the man, and how deeply Hermann trusts him.

That trust has been hard fought for over the last seven years of their knowing one another, initially shattered by that first meeting, where Newt came off as a self-absorbed tosser and Hermann a frigid, emotionless prick. They both admit now they were trying too hard to display a version of themselves they thought the other would like, instead of just being who they were.

But since they were forced back together three years ago, a genuine admiration has come about. And the trust; Hermann has never trusted someone to know him as well as Newt, to know the way Hermann likes to be treated, to understand his personal quirks, his oddities and vulnerabilities. If he could agree to something more permanent, anything that one could call a 'lifestyle,' Newt would be the one he would trust to do it right.

"Hmmm, since we're in public, I'll let the rules about using my title slip," Newt says. He slides his arm farther up, linking it around Hermann's elbow and tugging him forwards. "C'mon then, _mein Haustier_ ," - Hermann bristles a bit at being referred to as a ‘pet’, because even though there are unlikely to be German speakers around them, to hear Newt be so blatant in public, it’s unnerving _-_ "I've got a whole building to show you."

They spend a few hours walking around the aquarium. Newt brings him to all his favorite exhibits, babbling excitedly about sea anemones, sharks, otters and dolphins. If the Kaiju hadn't appeared, Hermann could certainly have seen Newt getting into this field. He rattles off statistics about oceanic biodiversity and the alarming rates of disappearing coral reefs, while also ranting about the brilliance of dolphins and how hunting them should be a capital crime.

When they pass by the gift shop, Newt drags Hermann inside and plucks a pin of a leaping dolphin off the register, placing it on the counter. Wordlessly, Hermann pulls out his wallet, but to his surprise, when the item has been purchased, Newt draws him outside the shop and pins it not to himself, but to the outside of Hermann's blazer.

"I'd have thought you'd be demanding I buy you all sorts of things from there," Hermann quips, watching Newt punch the pointed end of the pin through the fabric. "You're not taking advantage of having an iron grip on my wallet?"

Newt shrugs, pushing the back of the pin onto the point "We've got a whole day ahead of us and I don't want to be dragging heavy bags to several locations. Also, you were very good in there. Didn't complain once."

"I had nothing to complain about," Hermann admits.

"Mmmm, still though. Thought you deserved a little reward."

"A pin of your favorite sea creature is my reward?"

"Yep. It's the smartest animal in the sea, and you're the smartest guy I know. So, it fits."

Hermann swallows, twisting one hand atop the other on his cane handle. "What happened to 'taking me down a peg,' Dr. Geiszler?"

Newt grins. "You're an arrogant fucker, yeah. Doesn't mean I never thought you were smart. You just need to learn that being smart doesn't make you any better than the rest of us."

"I never believed that-"

"Well you sure act that way, sometimes," Newt shrugs. "So, remember that whenever you look at this pin. You're a dolphin, but you don't have to be a _dick_ about it."

Newt must have spent enough time here to be knowledgeable about attendance rates and the general use patterns of the building, because he looks entirely confident when he drags Hermann into a small bathroom off to the side of an unpopular exhibit and locks the door.

"The probability of anyone trying to come in here is next to zilch," Newt says, motioning to the spotless counter tops of the sinks, no water stains or soap leavings, and a fully stocked paper towel dispenser. It's going on noon, and knowing public bathrooms, this seems as if it hasn't been used all morning. So Hermann believes Newt, his anxiety relaxing into anticipation as Newt pulls him into the largest stall, locks the door and has him sit on the lid of the toilet.

Newt stands in front of Hermann, cupping his jaw gently and tugging his chin up till their eyes meet.

"Ever had sex in a public place, Gottlieb?"

"Never," Hermann replies, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip, giving away the game but not caring that he does so. "How gauche do you think I am?"

Newt smirks, dragging his thumb across Hermann's jaw, pressing it into his lower lip. "I bet you've fantasied about it. You seem like the kind of guy who would bitch about how gross and unhygienic it'd be to get fucked in a place like this, but in secret you've always wanted someone to pin you to a stall door and fuck you nice and dirty."

Hermann shivers, swallowing. He wants to draw Newt's thumb into his mouth, wants to suck on it, twirl his tongue around the digit and get it shiny with saliva. He'd gamble that Newt would find somewhere nice to push that thumb if he did so. But Gottlieb isn't all the way gone just yet. He must resist, can't give in, can't let Dr. Gesizler win...

Newt withdraws the finger, carding that hand once through Hermann's hair before popping the top button on his jeans. "Be a good boy and open your mouth."

"Are you truly that insatiable?" Hermann asks, watching as Newt shimmies down his jeans and boxers, his cock bobbing up gently, right in front of Hermann's waiting lips. "Will you leave me with any dignity at all by the end of this?"

"Fuck your dignity, Gottlieb," Newt replies, gripping a hand into Hermann's hair, tight and purposeful in the warning it gives. "You lost any right to dignity when you jizzed all over my science. Fucking hypocrite. You wanna talk about dignity? You never gave a shit about propriety, dude, you just wanted people to think you do. You don't deserve dignity, you deserve a cock down your throat. You're gonna choke on my dick and you're gonna like doing it. That's an order. Now open your fucking mouth."

They meet eyes, and Newt pauses. Hermann knows he's waiting for a signal, waiting to see if Hermann will call it off, will use his red light.

This is why Hermann trusts him so dearly. Newt has never treated him as an invalid, as incapable of understanding his own limits. Newt pushes him, challenges him, but always makes sure that he knows, when it comes down to it, this is all Hermann's choice, Hermann's desire to submit, Hermann allowing Newt to use him, no real coercion behind it. It might be fun to playact, to pretend that he hasn't any say, might give him a thrill to imagine that all his latent fantasies and desires need to be dragged to the surface by force, because he's too cowardly to act on them. But it's all part of the fantasy. Consensual non-consent. A few words, or their alternative signal of three taps on the thigh, and it would all be over. The truth is that Hermann is the one leading the scene, has been leading it from the start. Submission is only erotic when one is eager and willing to do so.

But Hermann doesn't want to call it off, and so he does open his mouth, a perverse shudder curling up his spine as Newt pulls his head down and shoves his prick deep into Hermann's throat. Hermann grabs Newt's upper thighs for support, pressing up against the hand that rests splayed across the back of Hermann's scalp. The hand holds him still as Newt's hips snap up, the very tip of his cock tickling the edge of Hermann's gag reflex, and he chokes and sputters, tears forming at the edges of his eyes, jammed shut so that he can't see, can only feel the scratch of Newt's pubic hairs against his nose, smell his musk and desire.

Newt rolls his hips in a steady gait, sometimes pushing Hermann's head back down after it’s been worked back up thrust by thrust. Repetitions of _good boy_ and _my pretty slut_ fall like rain from his lips, and Hermann moans after each one, preening under the praise. He can barely think, his own prick painfully hard and rubbing up against the silky fabric of the panties that contain it. Everything overwhelms him, and he focuses on the slide of Newt's cock against his tongue, the familiar, heady taste, the way it throbs and jumps when he twists his tongue, until Newt is no longer calling him names, is mumbling and groaning _Hermann_ and _beautiful man_ instead.

He has no warning, just a prescience that Newt is about to come, and swallows eagerly to accommodate the release. He’s proud of himself; there's no bitter aftertaste because of how well he managed to take it all. Newt must agree, because he pets Hermann's hair gently, panting softly and mumbling _good boy_ over and over.

Then suddenly, Newt is on his knees, mouthing at the fabric over Hermann's crotch.

Hermann gasps and grips his shoulders. "N-Newton..."

"Shush," Newt chides, tugging the buttons and zippers open and down, revealing the soft fabric of the panties. Newt leans in and licks a stripe over the material, and Hermann whines, toes curling, watching in rapt fascination as Newt continues to lap and suck him through the fabric. It grows damp with his saliva, and Hermann will feel that wetness when he gets up again, will recall the drag of Newt's tongue across him for however long it takes to dry.

"Please," Hermann begs, rocking his hips up. "Please, Newton... please, sir, I don't want to come like this."

"You'll come how I want you to," Newt replies, nuzzling him, tracing the outline of the head of his prick through the fabric. "Maybe I should make you come, make you drench these with your spunk and then walk around, feeling that mess. It'd remind you that you're a filthy slut, all day."

" _Noooo_ ," Hermann groans, torn between the momentary wild desire to see Newton do it, and knowing the reality of how uncomfortable walking around like that would be. "Please, I've been good, please, don't punish me."

Newt chuckles. "Yeah, alright," he says, and then his hands are tugging the rest of the fabric down, and his lips wrap around Hermann's prick. Hermann's arousal peaked minutes ago, and he's been barely keeping himself contained, so it only takes a few hard sucks before he's crying out Newt's name and spilling into his mouth, the dizzying orgasm leaving him breathless and undone.

Hermann slumps back against the toilet tank, watching as Newt presses a gentle kiss to his wilting cock before getting to his feet.

"You need a minute, _mein Haustier?_ " Newt asks, smirking when Hermann nods, like he's proud of wearing Hermann out so soon. And yet he says they've got a whole day ahead of them.

Good lord, how will Hermann survive it?

~

They find a stall selling steamed buns and bubble tea when they leave the aquarium. After a shared meal that Newt thankfully does not make him perform any more sexual favors for (though of course, he pays for the whole thing), they take the bus down to the Wan Chai Street Market. Lots of bustling people, plenty of tourists, but mostly, Newt seems to want to just browse, chatting with him amicably as they shuffle in and out of clothing shops, bookstores, electronics stalls and the occasional antiques booth.

Newt spots a tie with a variety of famous equations on it, like Euler's identity, Riemann's formula, Einstein's theory of relativity and Bayes's theorem. Despite Hermann's insistence that just because he is a mathematician, that does not mean he'll fall for every kitchsy bit of mathematical clothing, Newt insists they buy it anyway, looping it around Hermann's neck after the purchase and staring pointedly at Hermann as he tightens the knot. It gets exactly the kind of reaction out of Hermann that Newt probably hoped it would.

_Bastard_ , Hermann thinks as Newt says farewell to the shop owner and tugs Hermann out the door by the tie itself, giggling madly.

Newt does pick up a few things for himself, like a new bottle of black polish and a studded bracelet, small objects that can be easily carried in a pocket or worn. Every time Hermann pulls out his wallet, hands his card over to the vendor, Newt fixes him with a look, unspoken words, reminding Hermann that this is all part of the game. Dr. Gottlieb is suffering a comeuppance for his past transgressions, a financial balancing of the karmatic scales. But Hermann isn't suffering, Hermann is pleased that Newt is being thoughtful and reasonable in having control over Hermann's money. He hasn't demanded any ridiculous purchases, he's given Hermann the extra nudge he needs to treat himself (yes, he does like the tie, but he would never ordinarily 'waste' money on such a thing), and most of what's been spent is for their mutual enjoyment.

If Newt was in control of their finances, Hermann knows he could be trusted to be fiscally responsible, and if fiscal responsibility can't be sexy... well, piss off. It absolutely can be.

After a few hours, nearing on five-thirty, Newt leads them out of the market, and they take a train into the more expensive, fancier area of the city. A reservation has been made at a well-renowned sushi restaurant under Hermann's name. Newt must have been planning this all out since that first night it was suggested. Again, Hermann wouldn't normally splurge on such a meal, but he's happy to watch Newt order multiple varieties of sushi and sashimi, placing strips of uncooked tuna on his tongue in a far too suggestive manner, picking up a piece of salmon roll and pressing it to Hermann's lips, staring hungrily at Hermann while he bites down and chews, savoring the full flavor.

"I'm not a piece of sushi, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann jokes, cleansing his palate with a bit of ginger. "Yet you look at me as if I am."

"We are in a very nice restaurant that I don't want to get kicked out of," Newt responds, licking soy sauce off the edge of his lip and picking up another piece of tuna on rice. "If this booth was a little more private, you can be certain that this sashimi wouldn't be the only piece of meat I'd be handling."

Hermann chokes into his glass of water, grinning like a fool and saying nothing.

He really does expect Newt to try something, concerns of privacy be damned, but they finish the meal without any sort of inappropriate activity, although Newt hardly takes his eyes off Hermann the whole time. It's quite flattering, actually, to be looked at with such open want, an expression of clear desire, by someone for whom Hermann wants to be desirable.

The check comes, and it's quite a lot of money, but Newt just smirks at him, mouths _good boy_ again, and Hermann knows he's doomed, handing his card to the waiter.

Hermann feels satiated and warm when they exit the restaurant. Newt slips his hand into the opposite back pocket of Hermann's jeans, guiding him down the street.

"One more stop for the night," Newt says. "How are you feeling, Dr. Gottlieb?"

"I'll admit, this has been rather enjoyable," Hermann says. "I've been surprised as to your gentlemanly treatment, other than that one encounter in the bathroom."

"You liked it," Newt teases, a comforting heat against Hermann's side. "Come on, it's gotta be killing you to keep pretending."

"I pretend nothing," Hermann lies. "I... I'll not let you win this, Newton. I'd never live it down. You'd never let me."

Newt frowns, raising an eyebrow. "You think I'd make you regret admitting that you're human?"

"Normal people do not enjoy submission," Hermann says, playing the part so well, drawing from his past hurts and pains. "Especially individuals who wish to be respected by their fellow professionals and continue to have a career. I imagine you'd like exposing me, get some sort of perverse kick out of letting everyone know exactly how miserably pathetic I am."

Newt grips his arm, making him stop, and when Hermann looks back, he looks sad, disappointed. It hurts to see.

"Do you think that poorly of me, Hermann?" Newt asks. "You think I want you to feel like belonging to me would hurt you in any fucking way, dude?"

Hermann swallows, bites his lip. This feels too real, feels like hidden meanings under the surface are coming out.

"I don't know what you think, sir," Hermann replies, glancing down. "I can only go off what you've implied these last few days. And it seems to me... it seems that anything more substantial than the game you've made this out to be would be foolish of me to ask for."

They stand quietly for a moment. Hermann wonders whether Newt is going to call it all off, and that's the last thing Hermann wants. This game has been fun, but it's only made Hermann realize how much he'd rather this full-time submission continue past the context of the game. How nice it might be to have something deeper to their relationship, an agreement to attempt an alternative lifestyle.

The truth of the matter is... to go back to before, where this dominant and submissive relationship only exists in the confines of their bedroom, it will be painful. Disappointing. But to lose Newt entirely, to scare him away because of so demanding of a request, would be a far worse outcome.

"We're gonna be late," Newt finally says, tugging Hermann forward. "Let's go."

They walk in silence, Hermann contemplating where the game ends and his true desires begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wild ride will be over tomorrow folks... I hope you've enjoyed it so far >:D


	5. Chapter 5

A concert. Newt has brought them to a concert.

The sign above the concert hall reads _The Zelda Symphonic Orchestra: A 35 Year Retrospective_.

"You've got to be bloody joking," Hermann says.

"You like the orchestra," Newt responds, grinning at him. "And I like video games. This feeds both our fixations."

"Orchestra tickets are never cheap," Hermann reminds him, feeling the zeros falling out of his bank account by the second.

"Mmmm, yeah, well. Two things about that. I bought these months ago, and with my own money."

Hermann looks down at him. "You did?"

"Yeah. This kind of just perfectly lined up with the timeline of your being my submissive for the week," Newt says, shrugging. "Don't get me wrong, I could've found a hot date for the night, but then I would've had to find something else to do with you. Could've left you tied up for a few hours with something in your ass, I guess, but I'm hesitant to leave a sub by themselves in a compromised state."

"Yes, this is preferable," Hermann replies. He knows Newt wouldn't actually leave him bound up alone, it's far too dangerous. And certainly, with their genuine relationship being a monogamous affair, Newt wouldn't have bought these tickets unless he planned on making Hermann his date.

This was done with him in mind. Money spent to treat Hermann to a nice evening. It's... rather sweet.

Hermann finds himself smiling, gazing fondly at Newt as he leads them into the building.

The show is divided into two halves. The concert hall isn't nearly crowded or sold out, but that's fine, fewer people to be chatty and rude while Hermann is enjoying the swell of the wind instruments, the smooth melodies of the string sections, and the vibration of the percussion in his bones.

He vaguely recognizes some of the tunes in relation to their existence in the video game series that Newt will sometimes play, nudged up against Hermann's side in bed and holding an old handheld device, or blaring from the speakers of the old CRTV Newt keeps in his bunk. The symphony is well constructed, different tunes blending seamlessly into one another, and Hermann smiles every time Newt leans over and murmurs some sort of explanation about each tune, the game it comes from, and its importance to the series. It's not terribly interesting to him, but because it's terribly interesting to Newt, he enjoys learning about it.

When the lights come up, Newt grabs Hermann's shoulder when he moves to get up. "Wait a few," he says. "Let the bathrooms clear out."

"We may miss the opening of the second-"

Newt smirks. Ah. He's got something planned, then.

So, he waits five minutes, until Newt nods at him and they both head for the bathroom. There's a smaller one on the lower levels, and it's clearing out as they step inside. Newt mutters in his ear to not leave, so Hermann goes into a stall, shuts the door, takes a piss, then lowers the lid and waits.

He listens to the sound of shuffling feet exiting the room, waiting quietly until there is a single other presence hovering outside the stall door. Hermann stares down at the shoes peeking underneath the door, swallows, and unlatches the lock.

Newt bursts in like a gust of wind, gripping Hermann's upper arms and pulling him into a harsh, wanting kiss. Hermann moans, losing his grip on his cane and clinging to Newt instead.

"Turn around," Newt growls, shoving him back towards the toilet. "Hands on the top of the tank, no speaking."

Hermann complies, leaning down to grip the porcelain and listening with shaky breaths as Newt latches the door behind them. Hands come up around his waist, jerking at the front of his jeans, wrenching buttons and the zipper until nothing prevents Newt from sliding the denim down off Hermann's ass. Hermann moans as Newt cups each cheek of his arse in one hand, squeezing.

"Didn't think you were ending the day without getting fucked for real, did you?" Newt mutters against his throat. He lets out a chuckle, hot air ghosting across Hermann's skin. The tongue he laves against Hermann's neck leaves a trail of saliva that cools quickly, making him prickle and goosebump.

Hermann was told not to speak, so he responds with a whimper instead, pushing back against Newt's hands. He hears a familiar pop and realizes Newt has probably had their bottle of lubricant stashed in his jacket pocket all day. The panties are still clinging to his hips, and he gasps as Newt yanks the silk fabric not off but sideways, leaving him wearing them but exposing his entrance.

Newt pushes two slicked fingers into Hermann at once, drawing a stuttering groan out of him. A muted rumbling begins above them.

"Show's starting back up, _mein Haustier_ ," Newt says, fingers slipping in and out, twisting and teasing.  His other hand has slid under the fabric in front, gripping Hermann tightly and working him up and down. "Everybody's focused on the band. Nobody knows that you're getting opened up right below them. Imagine what they'd think of you, bent over and waiting for a nice cock."

Hermann leans on his elbows, shoving one fist into his mouth. The temptation to speak, to beg Newt for mercy is so great, but he mustn't. What if he's too loud? What if someone hears them? Newt told him to be silent, what if the punishment is that he stops? He mustn't stop, Hermann needs him to make good on this promise, craves to feel Newt back inside of him. He does feel hollow, empty, he realizes, whenever Newt hasn't been inside him for a while, and apparently close to twenty-four hours is far too long.

_He told Dr. Gottlieb that he would crave Dr. Geiszler's prick_ , Hermann thinks, jerking forward into Newt's grip. _And yet I am the one who needs him._

Except Gottlieb is him, he is Gottlieb. He is Hermann Gottlieb, and the lines are dissolving between character and reality.

So, when Newt pulls out his fingers and mutters _do you want this cock, you dirty slut?_ in Hermann's ear, it is Hermann who responds, who begs, _please, sir, please!_ It's Hermann who gasps, _deeper, sir, please!_ when Newt thrusts into him. Hermann is the one pleading in bitten back words for Newt to go faster, harder, to use him, to make it so he'll remember this, aching for hours after, remember the feeling of Newt wrapped around him, holding him tight, caressing and kissing and penetrating him.

"Hermann, fuck, you feel so _good_ ," Newt moans. He's got a strong grip around Hermann's waist, holding him up, helping to take pressure off his bad hip as best as they're able in this position. It’s not enough. When Hermann stumbles, feeling a sharp pain in his thigh, he curses, because this can't end, not yet, it's too wonderful! Blasted limitations! But Newt's quick thinking has him shoving them both forward, yanking Hermann's legs apart, Newt plopping down onto the closed lid of the toilet and pinning Hermann between himself and the tank. The panties keep Hermann's cock from being pressed against the cold porcelain, and Newt grips him under the thighs, hoisting him up and thrusting into him.

" _Newton!_ " Hermann cries, hands leaping back to dig into Newt's thighs, trying to find purchase. " _Mein Gott,_ yes, _bitte_ , don't stop, oh...!"

Newt sinks so deep into Hermann in this position, hitting every bit of tender, sensitive muscle. Hermann wants to cry, and maybe he does, in the end, but they're tears of joy, of relief. The rumble of the orchestra above their heads gives them a tempo, and Newt seems to follow it, snapping up like the tick of a metronome, pulling Hermann apart beat by beat, till he's nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess on Newt's lap.

He sobs as Newt lowers him to sink all the way down, letting go of Hermann's hip with one hand and sliding it back under the panties to stroke him.

"Listen to me, gorgeous," Newt says, panting against Hermann's shoulder. "Fuck... I told you I take care of things that belong to me, Hermann. You think I'd expose you and humiliate you to your colleagues? You think I'd make you regret submitting to me?"

"I, I don't-" Hermann babbles. He can't think, what is Newt saying, whom is he speaking to...?

"You wouldn't, Hermann," Newt continues. "You're my good boy... god, fuck, such a good boy, you take my cock so well..."

"I _c-can't_ ," Hermann gasps. He's so close, he's not going to last more than thirty seconds. "You don't, you don't want what I want-"

"What do you want, Hermann?" Newt asks. He squeezes a tight hand, and Hermann pitches forward. "Tell me what you want. I want to give it to you, honey. _Tell me_."

Hermann comes before he can answer, screaming into the hand that Newt shot up to cover his mouth. Thankfully, one of them was coherent enough to realize that being caught in this position by the concert hall staff would be a nightmare of real humiliation. Then, with a few more thrusts, Newt comes as well, shuddering and biting down on Hermann's shoulder to stifle his own moan.

"There," Newt says, pulling his hand away from Hermann's mouth. "Now you've got a good story for your next round of 'never have I ever.'"

Hermann hums an agreeable noise, his eyes fluttering open when he feels the hand around his cock slide away. Newt lifts it to Hermann's lips. There's only a bit of release covering the index and middle fingers, most of it having soaked into the front of the panties upon Hermann coming, but he dutifully dips his head and laps at the digits, cleaning them off.

"Good boy," Newt says, petting his hair with the cleaned fingers. "I'm going to help you stand up, but don't pull your pants back on just yet."

"Sir?" Hermann questions as Newt slips out of him, levering them both back to their feet. He tries to turn but Newt grabs his shoulder, keeping him still. The handle of his cane is pressed back into his hand, giving him something to lean on, and he listens to Newt shuffling around behind him, the swish of his leather jacket, and curiously, the pop of the lubricant cap.

That should give him a hint, but he's far too exhausted to figure it out, until Newt gently tugs the back of the panties down, and something firm and inorganic is pressed back into his well-buggered entrance. Hermann gasps and leans hard on the cane, his free hand shooting out to grab the top of the toilet tank.

"Feel that?" Newt says. The object is smaller than the girth of Newt's prick, but to his oversensitive, well-abused hole, its presence is invasive, distracting, leaving him feeling just as full as he was moments ago.

"A plug?" Hermann realizes. "Have you been carrying it all day?"

"Just waiting for the right opportunity," Newt replies, pushing a little more, and Hermann feels himself pucker and then tighten around the bulbed end that's keeping the plug from getting pulled completely into him.

" _Oh_ ," Hermann groans, head dipping down. "But why?"

"Because I like seeing you react when something's in your ass," Newt explains. He nudges Hermann to turn around, and then leans down, pulling the jeans back up Hermann's legs. The sound Hermann makes when the material slides up over his backside, pushing the plug deeper, is indignant, desperately needy. "You're not allowed to remove it until we get back to the bunk. It's gonna keep you nice and prepped for when I wanna fuck you later."

"But the concert-" Hermann says, panting as Newt zips him up, buttons everything into place. Maybe Newt had other ideas when he purchased such tightly fitting pants for Hermann, not just as a fashion choice. It feels like Newt is still inside him even now, as Hermann aches with stimulation from the plug. Every time he shifts, it presses against different muscles, different spots. His prick, already spent, will likely not remain long in its wilted state.

"Oh, we're gonna finish watching the concert, don't worry about that," Newt says, grinning and patting Hermann's cheek. "Not missing it after all this money I spent on tickets. Now come on, chop chop, before we miss any more."

Hermann lets a frustrated whine escape his throat as Newt leads him from the bathroom. Each step is delicious torture, as if their encounter hadn't ended moments ago, as if Newt is still buggering him. Hermann swallows hard as they step off the elevator, tries to take deep breaths, tries to not look so bloody red-faced and desperate as they pass by the ushers and reenter the concert hall.

He doesn't think anyone notices his distressed state, and thankfully, Newt is merciful enough to lead them not to their original seats, but to settle them in the empty back row of the hall. This means everyone is facing away from them, and no one is near enough to hear the quiet whimpers that Hermann must muffle once they sit down and the plug is pushed deeper into him, hitting right up against his prostate.

Newt does lean in and ask him then if he needs to use his red light, but Hermann shakes his head, face half covered by a splayed hand over his mouth. It's terrifying to think that someone might realize what's going on, but at the same time, it's exciting, another challenge, another way Newt is testing his limits, showing Hermann that he's not so weak as he might've imagined, that he is strong enough to engage and meet Newt at this level of submission.

_He was right_ , Hermann thinks, slowly rocking into the plug, biting his tongue to stop a moan. _I love feelings like this._

His eyelids droop, and with some sort of supernatural ability, he feels his cock starting to harden again. Look at him, sitting in the back of a theater, in public, working himself into a tizzy! What a filthy wretch he is.

Newt is watching him out of the corner of his eye. Hermann blushes and looks away, but feels Newt lean over.

"Take your blazer off," Newt mumbles in his ear. "Lie it over your lap."

Hermann nods and does so, smoothing the fabric out across his legs, the dolphin pin glinting in the dim light cast from the orchestra stage. He stifles a gasp when he feels Newt's hand slide under the blazer to palm him again.

"Eyes forward, Gottlieb," Newt mutters, even more quietly. "Enjoy yourself, you've earned it."

_Bloody right I have,_ Hermann thinks, continuing to rock, finding relief as Newt's hand squeezes and caresses his aching prick. The music swells towards a finale, and Hermann swells to meet it.

~

He doesn't get off before the end of the show, sadly. He supposes that despite the excitement, the sheer terror of being caught is enough to keep him just far enough away from the edge. When the music ends, Newt takes his hand away, mumbling for Hermann to calm himself and tell Newt when he's ready to move.

Hermann takes deep breaths, and after a few minutes, he can bear to stand and follow Newt out of the hall. The evening has turned to night, and the weather has cooled, a chill that helps to ease his over-warmed, aroused state. Newt hails them another taxi, plucking Hermann's card from his shaking hand and sliding it into the card reader with a smooth motion when they are seated.

"Almost done, Dr. Gottlieb," Newt says, smiling and tucking the card back into Hermann’s wallet. He puts it into his own jacket, patting Hermann's knee. "Relax, you'll get it back. I promise."

Hermann nods, leaning back into the seat and closing his eyes. The plug is still a focal point for his nerves, but he finds himself stifling a yawn, because it has been quite a long day.

Newt holds his hand through the ride, fingers laced together. He rubs his thumb into Hermann's palm, which normally wouldn't be arousing, but every inch of his body is alight, and even this small motion blooms a tingling pleasure in his bollocks that doesn't fade.

The streets near the Shatterdome are poorly paved. Hermann feels every bump, every jolt as a brush against his prostate, and by the time they arrive at the front entrance, he feels as though he's about to draw blood, he's biting his cheek so hard. He practically dashes from the vehicle, and Newt laughs and lets himself be dragged into the building. The bunks are mercifully only a short elevator ride away.

"Someone's eager," Newt says as he shuts the door of the bunk. Hermann is already shucking off his blazer, letting it drop to the floor as he works open the buttons of his shirt, yanking the tie off as Newt comes up to grip his hands and make him still. "Since when do you start undressing for me without being ordered to?"

The words are so hard to get out. Hermann had been thinking of what he'd wanted to say through the whole cab ride, when he was able to think around the distraction of arousal in his lower half. He wets his lips, worrying the lower one while he considers what to say next.

"You've won," Hermann says, tugging his hands away from Newt and undoing the last two buttons of the shirt. He lets the garment fall off him, exposing his pale chest, the leather band still around his throat. He then grasps one of Newt's hands and guides it up, nudging Newt's fingers through the metal ring. "I'm yours. I'll submit to whatever you'd like. Just, please... let me keep being your good boy, indefinitely."

Newt gasps a little, eyes going wide. "Yellow light," he says. "Is this still part of the game?"

Hermann shrugs his shoulders. "Dr. Geiszler has finally managed to break Dr. Gottlieb. He'll do anything asked of him."

"And Hermann?" Newt asks. "C'mon, tell me what Hermann wants. Please."

"Hermann doesn't want this to be a game anymore," he says, leaning into Newt's touch when the other man presses a hand to his cheek. "Hermann has found he quite likes being your pet, both in and out of the bedroom. He wants something more permanent, something that encompasses all aspects of your life together. But he's scared that you'll think he's asking too much of you."

"Hermann..." Newt pulls him in for a tender, gentle kiss, hands stroking through Hermann's hair. "Baby, _mein liebling_ , it's not too much. I want to make you happy."

"I'll only be happy if you want it too, Newton," Hermann replies, swallowing back tears that have suddenly threatened to spill out of him. "I cannot ask you to do something you're uncomfortable with. When we began this relationship, I made no indication that I wanted anything close to a lifestyle-"

"So, what?" Newt says, resting his hands on Hermann's hips. "You're supposed know exactly what you want immediately at the start? Dude, you wouldn't be asking for this unless I'd proved I wouldn't take advantage of you. Lifestyle shit is hard and any fantasy about doms and subs just naturally falling into it is bullshit."

"I suppose," Hermann says, shrugging, feeling rather foolish, now that Newt has made his point. "Perhaps we could start small, work our way into it." He lifts a hand to stroke the leather band, biting back a smile. "I like this. I like knowing I belong to you. It makes me feel protected, secure. Loved."

Newt smiles back. "You are, Herms. I love you so damn much. I don't ever want you feeling unwanted or like you're not enough, 'cause you're perfect for me."

Hermann blushes, he can't help it, this has suddenly gotten so emotional. "You'll still call me filthy things, yes? I like that too. And when you use me in debauched ways."

Newt laughs, tugging on the collar loop again. "Whatever you want, my little slut. We'll work out what you'd like both in and out of the bedroom. You can always red light anything or any time you're not into it. Why don't we just make that a permanent expectation too? Stoplight system in use indefinitely, starting right now."

"Yes. But enough with this drawn out roleplay, _mein liebling._ Let's just be Hermann and Newt again, yes?"

"Hell yeah. Dr. Geiszler is a real dickhead and I felt a little too mean as him. Maybe we'll go back to them another time."

Hermann nods. "Green light, Newton. Would you still like me to address you as sir?"

"When you want to call me that, you can," Newt says, leading him over to the bed. He presses Herman onto his back, reaching down to work open the buttons of his jeans. "If it makes you feel good. You can call me sir, or master, or Newt, or Newton, or, what the hell, even Dr. Geiszler. Only when we're not around other people on that last one. And maybe sometimes, I'll order you to call me a specific thing, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Hermann replies, relishing the little shiver that goes through Newt, the way his eyelids droop, his tongue darting out. "Are you going to take the plug out now?"

"Mmmmm." Newt tugs Hermann's jeans down, pressing a ticklish kiss to Hermann's inner thigh. "Told you before, I'm not done with you. You're not too sore, are you?"

"No, sir. I want whatever you want to give me."

" _Hermann_ ," Newt groans, yanking the pants the rest of the way down. Hermann gasps when Newt’s teeth dig into the fabric of the silk panties, and he draws them slowly off Hermann's hips, so teasingly slow. Hermann's cock is weeping as Newt uncovers it. He wants so badly for Newt to hurry up, but there's a delicious anticipation to the slow drag of the fabric down Hermann's legs, Newt's eyes locked to his, a promise of pleasure yet to come.

Clothes discarded, Newt pushes Hermann's fully naked legs apart, and Hermann gets up onto his elbows to watch as Newt kneels in front of him, grasping the end of the plug. He takes his sweet time again to pull it out of Hermann, slowing down as the widest part stretches Hermann open, until he squirms and pants and begs Newt to take it all the way out.

"You were enjoying this in the concert hall, Hermann," Newt reminds him, smirking and twisting it, causing Hermann to arch up and cry out. "I saw you using it to pleasure yourself. And now you want it out? Why should I?"

"B-because, I want you _more_ ," Hermann pleads. "Please, Newton, please, sir, I need you..."

The growl Newt lets out is low, possessive, and he gives Hermann what he wants, tugging the plug the rest of the way out, so that Hermann moans in relief, even though he knows there will be pressure again soon enough. Newt doesn't bother undressing fully, he shucks his jacket aside and shimmies his jeans down to his knees, gripping Hermann's thighs and yanking him forwards, slamming into him.

" _Newt!_ " Hermann cries out, fingers scrabbling on the bed. " _Mein liebling, bitte_ , make me yours!"

"You already are," Newt replies, draping himself across Hermann, holding his head and kissing him deeply, tongue pushing between Hermann's lips, claiming his mouth and his arse simultaneously. He moves fast, probably knows that Hermann is exhausted and can't handle a dragged-out encounter, just needs something quick, something to end this long day with a bang.

It's over in less than a minute. Newt tears the rest of his clothes off afterwards and pulls Hermann tight to his chest, pressing lines of kisses across his forehead. 

"I've got you," Newt mumbles, caressing him gently, lovingly. "You're mine, Hermann. My good boy. For as long as you want."

"Forever would be lovely, dear man," Hermann replies. "Is that alright?"

"I think I can handle forever. In fact, that's like, the perfect amount of time."

Hermann laughs and kisses him. Forever is just beginning. How lucky they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending on feels! Thanks for reading, you horny perverts. Any suggestions as to sequel vignettes are welcome. I'm sure this fandom can think of plenty of ways these horny boys can enjoy themselves <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to WaldosAkimbo for beta'ing this fic, you did a fantastic job!
> 
> In addition, thank you SO much to WaldosAkimbo, GloriaVictoria, TooOftenObsessed, FreezerJerky and CommunionNimrod for helping to inspire a lot of this fic through ridiculous conversations on Discord. Vic especially came up with a lot of good stuff that got incorporated into this, INCLUDING coming up with the title, so thanks for that, m'dear :D
> 
> There is PLENTY more to come. The fic is finished at about 24K words. I'm gonna try and get a chapter out per day so I don't torture you all quite as badly as Newt will be torturing Hermann ;)
> 
> *cackles and runs off*


End file.
